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

by Alaric Longward

  She giggled, though there was an edge of impatience in her voice. 'Before you get your first weapons, I cannot give you better ones as a wife would before the wedding night.'

  'It is a strange world we live in,' I agreed, and enjoyed her deft fingers. I thought of Ishild for a second, and felt cold dread running down my spine at her parting words. They had been desperate, spiteful, and doom-ridden. I had told her I would be her friend, but she had disappeared, and I wondered what they had been doing to Bero. It bothered me I could not witness the death of the man who was responsible for my family's demise.

  Ermendrud interrupted my thoughts. 'Your father spoke of winter, so I am sure you get your chance to prove yourself. There is talk of war with the Matticati,' she said.

  I nodded, for it was true there had been strangely many incidents of Matticati raiding our side of the river in the north. I remembered Armin and the skull of Hengsti's nephew, mulling over the possibility of Armin having caused the unusually intense raiding season. I wondered when I would see Armin again and dreaded that, as well. I wished to speak with Father, but he had been gone for two weeks. Maroboodus rode around the wide lands of the north gau, rarely seen.

  'There are rumors,' she said mysteriously, 'that your father is facing resistance in some Marcomanni villages.'

  I had heard it, too.

  It was Bark and Isfried's doing. Bark was claiming loudly, far and wide, that he knew Maroboodus had killed his holy brother Wulf and the vitka, and that the indignant gods wanted Maroboodus dead and punished. Isfried did little to silence him, but someone had been busy silencing some bolder chiefs who were suddenly reluctant to support Father, and the elusive, deadly Romans had again slain some vitka from further villages. I snorted at that. They had died mysteriously, as some of Maroboodus's men were creatures of the night, and so many grumblers kept their peace, but only barely. Bark had power in faraway places, threatening Father from surprising directions, but Maroboodus had not sent Gunhild over to Isfried. Some of Father's chiefs were unhappy, especially those who profited from trade. Isfried had changed past deals, trying to supplant Hard Hill in the greedy eyes of the Romans, welcoming them to Grinrock, Isfried's town. We would trust Maroboodus to handle these delicate problems, but I was more obsessed with Koun's past words, and I had a plan.

  'Love,' I told Ermendrud meticulously. 'Do you know the mighty Koun, the Vangione?'

  'Yes, why?' she asked, and we hid in haste from a party of hunters passing uphill from us. We waited until they passed, and she went on. 'I've seen how he hurts you for your father and brother,' she added hotly, 'so I do not really like him.'

  'He knows the spear, yes,' I agreed, 'but soon, there is little honor in our fights. I would like to beat him fairly.'

  'What do you mean,' she asked on her elbows.

  'He is weaker than he was,' I told her, regret thick in my voice.

  'He beats you like you were a crippled dog,' she said bluntly.

  'Does not!' I told her, and she rolled her eyes, gesturing at me to go on. 'He was a great lord once. He eats scraps. Rancid lentils, little meat. He is not as strong as he used to be. He is starving of juicy, strengthening meat. And man's mead. I worry for him, and for my honor. They will soon see him collapsing, and say I am fighting a woman.'

  She scoffed. 'He should be happy to eat at all. The Vangione dog. Moreover, I still think he looks very strong, savagely muscular and handsomely tall, and seems to treat you like he would a pesky, naughty child. You should be happy he is weaker than he should be.'

  I shrugged, and felt annoyed she obviously thought he looked fine. 'I want to beat him fairly. I would like you to speak to Gunhild about his fare. If Gunhild could bring him the midday meal tomorrow, and ask him what he is accustomed to eating, I would be very grateful. He is too proud to do so. '

  'Fine,' she said, and I let her entwine her gentle arms around me. He and Gunhild had liked each other on that night, when power changed hands in the Hard Hill.

  After Ermendrud left, like many other nights, I spent time with Wandal and Ansbor, helping them rebuild the ransacked smithy. It was hard work after the pains inflicted on me by Nihta and Koun, but it helped me unload the humiliations of Gernot and Ansigar. I would sit at the hot fires by Euric's hall, joking with them as we used to joke, teasing Ansbor brutally. He was constantly sullen. Felix knew Ansbor could not resist gambling. They knew, I was sure, about my liaisons with a woman. Felix likely knew the truth. Ansbor suspected Ishild, I knew, and Wandal just looked scared at the thought of any woman, being awkward with them. Euric kept a stony face, not really telling me to take care, but he did recite harrowing tales of terrors of childbirth, and how angry spirits take women over as mothers.

  Then, my plan worked.

  In a few days, the taciturn, stubborn Koun was happier. It was as if the sun came out after a long, insufferably rainy period. He smiled often, grunted approvingly after a proper spear block or a savage thrust. He took enjoyment in our training, and I managed to make him laugh once as I hit him lightly on the hip. Ermendrud told me Gunhild had taken to attending Koun's meals personally, and while she looked suspicious, suspecting I had tricked her in some way, I felt very clever. I decided to be patient as a snake, letting Koun's happiness grow, and when the time was right, and we were closer, I’d ask him again about his dark secret.

  The month of Bráh-mánódthe arrived with celebration though only a modest one. It was the month Romans call Junius. I had grown uneasy, and was still serving Gernot, who was increasingly imaginative, often having me serve him food while he served justice. These actions raised eyebrows in the crowds that gathered to witness the law-speaking, and I trembled in agitation and shame, but managed to endure it. Sometimes, in silence and solitude, I cried after I was released from his service, and begged Woden to intervene before I did something I would regret.

  One morning, warm air blew onto my face while I still slept and in my stupor, I realized my hut's door was open.

  I woke up instantly, hand on the seax. I looked outside the open door, and saw Armin was sitting on a mossy stone near my hut. He waved, handsome and happy. I jumped up stiffly and walked to him, warily, pulling on my pants. 'Lord Armin,' I bowed to him. 'What have you been up to? A rather long stay, no?'

  He smiled, got up to stretch and put a hand around my shoulder. 'I have lived in the saddle. I think the horse thinks of me as his extension. I have been hunting the land and snooping around Marcomanni villages. To properly topple one’s enemy, one must know them. If the need arises one day, of course, Hraban.'

  'Marcomanni are not the sort to bend over to pretty young princes,' I quipped, yawning. Armin laughed hard and long, his deep bass reverberating until I joined him.

  'Where is the skull of the Matticati lord?' I asked him abruptly. 'There has been much trouble lately in the north.'

  He waved towards the north, his eyes cunning and secretive. He had been visiting the Matticati, I knew. Possibly Isfried if Father had read him right. He had been very busy. Your father shrugged, Thumelicus. 'The skull is buried, Hraban, in their family mound. It is proper to honor ones enemies.'

  'Indeed,' I told him. 'The Matticati were grateful?'

  'Bark,' he said, ignoring my question, 'would like to bury Wulf, his brother.'

  'Wulf's charred bones were buried next to the harbor, with the other vitka and völva, under a fine mound.' I felt a pang of pain at the memory, and spat the sore feeling away.

  Armin looked at me carefully. 'Yes, but he wishes to rebury the bones in the Flowery Meadows. Bark actually has the bones. Men who still obey him dug them up. He will deliver them to the Meadows one certain morning, not far in the future.'

  'I see. He would dare to travel here, then?' I asked him carefully. 'Very brave of him, considering Father seems to have suffered a lot of discomfort for his lies.'

  Armin looked away. 'Bark is a holy man. He should not fear, despite his enemies, but these are dark times,' he agreed, picking up muddy stones and throwing the
m at my hut's wall.

  I prodded him. 'You have a plan to kill my father?'

  He looked happy to stop avoiding the subject. 'This is not easy, Hraban. I am a quarrelsome, murderous guest, and violating my fine hosts. However, I would indeed like to see your father learn of Bark's intentions, and I would love to see him try to kill Bark that morning. You see, Isfried expects him to do so, and will slay Maroboodus. He is very disappointed and suspicious after hearing these … lies of Bark. It is a hard plan, a risky plan. I doubt he dares to touch me, should the plan fail, but many others will suffer terribly. Possibly even his own relatives.'

  I shrugged. 'I will risk it. I will be free of him.' I managed a sincere smile. 'I won't be hurt by his spite any longer, should this come to pass. That is enough to risk much.'

  'Yes, free to be the lord you should be,' Armin said, gauging me.

  At that, I was sincerely happy. In fact, I was giddy with excitement for a moment, and he saw this, and smiled, relieved, misunderstanding the reason I was happy. I would be a lord indeed, but a Marcomanni one, free to punish the men deserving my wrath, mighty as a young god, both terrible and fair. I adopted a calmer demeanor, and forced a look of worry on my face. 'What of Isfried? He trusts that I work against my father? He would risk his life, and trust I am not false?'

  'Are you false, Hraban?' Armin asked, but shook his head. 'No, he will want you as a hostage.'

  'Hostage?' I asked, starting to dislike the plan.

  'Yes, of course. He wishes assurances, and none are better than the life of the one he should trust. I agree with him.' His formerly happy face was rigid with stubborn determination, and for the first time, Thumelicus, I saw in him the qualities that would make him the terror of Rome. He had intelligence by the bucketful, yet utter ruthlessness to complement it, and if these failed, unforgiving anger, all mixed together into a man one should not cross. His voice was hard. 'You will be a hostage. Then, when Maroboodus is dead, you will serve Isfried. Or me, we will see.' I nodded uncertainly, and he glanced at me. 'You still wish to do this?'

  'Yes,' I said, dreading the web of schemes tightening around me, yet happy things were finally moving. 'How?'

  Armin walked around me, staring at me as if he was about to devour me. 'As to how Maroboodus will learn of Bark's false plans? We will sacrifice a man, a holy vitka of minor rank. The man is mad with hate for your father, Tear, and Odo. He is Bark's servant, and lost a wife when your father came to power. Your father is coming back to the Hill, soon, I know, and Tear will bless a Thing he has called for. Maroboodus will have war with the Matticati, and the shadowed omens will be read and revealed. This man will try to kill them in the Thing.'

  'He will try to murder Father?' I asked, incredulous.

  'Many men and women have died in this strange shadow war the Marcomanni are already waging. Yes, he will try,' Armin said calmly. 'He will not do it openly, but with surprise.'

  'Will he succeed, this man?' I asked, thinking how much I would like to see Tear and Odo slain, though not Father.

  Armin smiled, knowing what I thought about. 'No, you will stop him before he acts. Do not let him succeed, not even if he goes for Tear and Odo. You will need the vitka and the völva to torture the would-be assassin. She and Odo are the only ones to make this fanatic speak. Therefore, you must capture him alive, and keep your foes alive. For now. He will suffer horrors, the poor man, and eventually tell Tear how Bark is to come to the Meadows, in secret, supposedly bent on burying his brother, as the gods have asked him to.'

  'And if he does not talk?'

  'Any man talks, Hraban, when tortured,' he told me sadly, and I saw he had seen such things. His eyes flickered painfully at some distant memory, but he shrugged and smiled mournfully. ‘He will speak. If not, we fail. But he has relatives in Hard Hill. Young relatives.’ He looked disgusted by his own words. ‘He dare not be silent. For them. His name is known here.’

  'Why do you think,' I wondered, 'that Isfried would let me live to serve him? How is the old bastard?'

  Armin smiled. 'He is very grumpy, entirely unhappy, and trying to learn to live without Bero. Bark is wearing on his nerves, relentless in his accusations, making Grinrock a hotbed of discontent. In addition, Isfried's trade with Rome, which started with great promise, has dwindled. Your father's skillful men have burned a wealthy Roman trader near Grinrock, and the blame has fallen on Isfried. The man wants poor Gunhild alive and to warm his rough bed, and he now wants Maroboodus on his pyre. He no longer believes Maroboodus is any better than Bero, what comes to Gunhild, and I suppose he disdains what happened to the vitka of Hard Hill. With this plan, Isfried gets both his wishes, possibly, and is seething to see it done. As to guarantees to your safety? He promised me. I can promise you no more than this. You have to decide whether you'll take terrible risks to change your unhappy wyrd, or stay as you are.' He looked at my sorry hut and many bruises, and I spat in agreement.

  'When is the Thing?' I asked him.

  Armin looked around, unsure. 'Soon. Your father has called for many Marcomanni lords who are already travelling here. I met many on the way. I will send word to you about this vitka and when he will arrive, and what he looks like. I hope you are honest, Hraban. I give you an oath to support you, and to elevate you.'

  'You must love your woman very much,' I said.

  He nodded. His eyes twinkled. 'Will you give me the oath to be faithful to our common cause?'

  We had no common cause, however I spoke frankly. 'I so swear.' I took his outstretched arm. I reminded myself of my true allegiance, and thought Woden would approve of my lie. What Armin was planning was foul and filthy. He noticed my look and nodded sagely.

  'It is,' he nodded, 'a dishonorable plan. Not unlike your father's, but I never judged him for using schemes and unusual methods to topple Bero. I, in fact, admire a man who can think unlike the men of our world.'

  'Who is this madman trying to slay Tear?' I asked him, thinking he was a much more dangerous man than his pretty face made him appear.

  'I'll send word. You have men you trust?' he asked.

  'Yes, I have three,' I told him, though Father would stop the assassin well before the Thing. 'Can you not tell me of him already?'

  'You sure you wish to know?' he asked me.

  I felt uneasy at the words, but nodded. 'Yes.'

  'A man in pain, he is,' Armin said heavily. 'You must know him. He survived what you did at the Flowery Meadows.' We stared at each other. His eyes flickered around, and then he regarded me and sighed. 'I know your choices, Hraban, have not been easy. You did a deed for your father; a dishonorable act, and perhaps you did not know what you were doing to begin with, but when you took the sword to the women? That was both a terrible and a brave deed. You are much like your father and me, and know when one must act and grieve later. Bark saw the club in your hand, but this man saw you, a vitka who has naught left but hate in his sundered heart. The poison burned his throat horribly, still does, but he crawled like a worm out of the Meadows, made his painful way to Grinrock, and has been serving Bark, waiting for vengeance. His wife was Ralla.'

  I remembered the man I had seen Ralla hug before I killed her. Manno, the name had been. I nodded gravely. Wyrd. Armin did not exactly judge me, which was strangely comforting. 'And this is why Father has been facing so much trouble lately? They have a witness.'

  'The man was half-unconscious, but yes,' Armin agreed. ‘They mainly blame your father. But they will blame you, as well, had you not agreed to this plan.’

  ‘And I go there, easily, and trust they will forgive me this?’ I asked, shocked by the implication of Manno being alive. They could have smeared my name all across the lands.

  ‘Yes,’ Armin said simply.

  ‘But first,' I asked, 'he is coming here?'

  'He thinks he has a job he can survive.'

  'How would he ever think that?' I wondered.

  He will,' Armin said softly, 'kill your scheming father, foul Tear, and even fouler Odo, an
d as many others opposing Isfried as he can. The poor man thinks there are many, many others with him. However, he is alone. So stop Manno, Hraban, and then have Tear torture him, let your father learn of Bark's plans from his pained lips. Then go to Isfried, in absolute secrecy, claiming to all you are ill and unable to meet anyone and pray Isfried succeeds. But beware, Hraban. The man, Manno, will try to kill you as well, if he sees you. He knows you have been offered an out of this vengeance, but he likely would be unable to resist. He knows you were there that night, and hates you like he hates Maroboodus, Tear, and Odo.’

  ‘Gods,’ I whispered, and rubbed my face. ‘What a mess.’

  He snickered. ‘Yes. Be ruthless, Hraban, and I will have a place for you if Isfried will not. I can kill men in the terror of a shield wall and use men callously out of it, even onto death if needed. I do so for fine causes, Hraban, ones you can share in. My cause is the freedom of the Cherusci and ultimately, all the tribes, from the enslavement of Rome.'

  His high words annoyed me for some reason. 'I do not know of the tribes,' I said darkly, 'but your cause is Thusnelda.'

  He grasped me painfully and looked into my eyes. 'You will find, Hraban, that I cherish both causes equally. Now, Manno should tell your father Bark will be at the Flowery Meadows three days from the Thing, during that morning, early morning. If you do not come to Grinrock, Isfried will not ride, but he will launch a slow war, one that will cripple your tribes for years, perhaps permanently. So do not fail, if you love the Marcomanni.' Then he walked away, pulling his deep hood up. Armin was playing a very dangerous game; a guest no longer, but a conspirator.

  A few, slow days passed. Father was coming home, as Armin said. There was a rumor of an urgent Thing. Some chiefs had already arrived with their many escorts.

  Adalfuns the Crafter surprised us and came to look for me while we were sitting at the smithy. The house and the work shed were nearly finished, though the thatch on the roof was still poorly mended. He sat down in front of me and whispered to Euric, who took the others out. Adalfuns smiled, tired. 'Crafting, Hraban, is a young man’s profession. My poor back is killing me.'