I stepped forward and blocked the spear thrust he threw my way with a scream, and I slammed his shield repeatedly with Nightbright, grunting as the shield broke, and I kicked him on his backside as he turned to run. I stepped on his back, took out my thick pigskin belt, tore his shirt off, and whipped him with the buckle so hard and so long he squealed from pain, and soon, he lost consciousness as blood flew.
'For threatening women, you sad, nasty bastard,' I hissed, panting hard as the belt snapped down. 'A filthy, yellow-skinned snake at my side, simpering slave to my enemies, you bitter, evil, poor fool!' I stopped when Wandal put his hand out to catch my wrist, but Ansigar was but a quivering piece of raw flesh by then, and I even saw a bone sticking out from the mess. I spat at him and kicked dirt on his wounds, relentless as a berserker can be. Wandal pointed to the west. Koun was looking at us from fifty yards away on his horse. I yelled as I wiped Ansigar's blood off my forehead, 'Where are you going?'
Koun put hands around his mouth as he hollered. 'Well, Hraban! I am sorry, but I will trade the great, beautiful ring for Gunhild. We need not be enemies. Moreover, I can finally tell you my secret. About Bero and Balderich!' I looked for a horse, saw a magnificent white one, and started to walk for it. Then I saw Koun's horse shy at a startled bird. I also saw speeding Catualda ride hard for Koun, and before I could shout a warning, he reached the Vangione, and stabbed Koun to the side and armpit with a spear, repeatedly. Koun's corpse jerked with each hit, his face astonished. The horse tried to run, but Catualda grabbed it. He was rummaging around Koun's quivering body, and came out with something bright.
He turned my way. 'Draupnir, Hraban! No matter what it does, if it has no true power at all, it has the power over men's fates. My father was a Gothoni! He was a lord! The ring was his.'
I cursed him. 'And now you take it to Father. Killing Koun for his secret?'
'No, Hraban, I take it for me,' he told me vengefully. 'The ring is not yours. It was Bero's. And with this ring, he would have been a mighty man, with strong armies to drive the Romans back, finally able to do more than fawn at them. He was unlike Hulderic, who feared to flaunt it. It is mine by right! However, my life is in the north. My mother was a cousin of Sigimer. I am Armin's blood as well as yours, my friend. Bero met her, his second wife, when he chased after Hulderic, and so I have a life there too! Especially with this ring as a gift!'
'Both conniving liars,' I said softly, astonished at the turn of events, saddened for Koun, whom I had liked, while mounting the horse I had captured. Catualda moved his horse away.
'Armin,' he yelled, 'is a great man. You will see, one day.' I cursed Armin for his plans, and thought he was very similar to Maroboodus. The Cherusci adeling and Catualda had always planned for this. Catualda was nodding as if reading my thoughts. 'The ring. I will take it to Armin, Hraban, who awaits me by Rhenus. It is ours. I will serve him; we will ally with the mighty Chatti and be the great power over Suebi and Rome alike. My father wanted to fight Rome, but I will. Truly! You can come with me, if you like. We will need you. You can still marry Gunda, and serve us in so many ways.'
I was next to the horse when his words struck me. 'Bero? Your father was going to join with Rome. Was that not what you told me earlier? What everyone recites over and over? Now you say he was going to oppose them? And my grandfather?'
He faltered, his fat lips smacking, but he had no more words. 'I will tell Armin you are well, Lord Hraban. He will not like that you betrayed him in Isfried's matter, but he knew I would deliver this to him anyway. It was always a long shot to slay Maroboodus, no? I will see you when I see you. And I am sorry.' He rode off, the flashing hooves throwing wet mud high up in the air. I got to Koun. He was quivering on the horse, his eyes listless, but they focused as I grabbed him.
'Hraban,' he said weakly, bloody froth on his lips. 'Vannius betrayed me.'
'He did, Koun,' I said, and felt sorry for him.
'Tell Gunhild I love her,' he said with tears. 'She is a fine woman. Too good for Maroboodus.'
'She is, lord, I know,' I said, calling him a lord. He was adeling, the mighty warrior who had killed Hulderic, and I respected him. He was dying and held my hand softly.
'Your grandfather did indeed wish to live in the Roman lands. He wanted to retire and many do, like him. Old, rich Germani. That was no lie. Yet it was neither Bero nor Balderich who told us about your father’s whereabouts. It was that man. Catualda told us where Maroboodus would be.'
'But Bero commanded him?' I asked, my voice breaking.
He coughed blood and I held him. 'No. It was only Catualda. Bero and Balderich talked and traded with Rome, but only Catualda betrayed your people. When he heard of Maroboodus? He tried to get the ring then and hoped we would kill them all. He was to get it after Hulderic and Maroboodus died. As a reward. When we failed, he joined your father. Again for the ring. Which he now has.'
'My father knew Catualda did this?' I said, 'Maroboodus forgave Catualda? How?'
Koun shook his head tiredly. 'Your father wanted the power of the Marcomanni. Catualda was a key to Hard Hill, a precious ally no matter his past deeds. Besides, he likely thought Catualda had worked Bero's will, and more than likely Catualda lied to Maroboodus as well. But I knew the truth. Bero was a patient, shifty enemy of Rome, Catualda has always been its friend.' He coughed hard, spitting blood. 'Maroboodus did not believe me on that day he killed my men on the riverbank, when I said it was only Catualda. He made me shut up. He needed it to be Bero, you see. I could not let him murder Vannius. He would have, just to make sure Vannius did not ruin his plans. But Vannius sold me out to him instead, and I am a fool.' He laughed weakly.
I nodded, bloodlust churning in my chest. Catualda. The fat-lipped bastard pretending to be a friend to so many, but, in fact, was one to his relative Armin. He had betrayed me, his old, fine father, tired Balderich, perhaps even canny Maroboodus. Now he rode free and happy. With Draupnir's Spawn.
Or perhaps not.
I would catch him, even if he rode swift Sleipnir, Woden's many-legged horse itself. Koun shuddered and grabbed my neck, pulling me close. 'Get sad Gunhild free. And avenge me. On Catualda, on your father, and beat Vannius well. Do not kill him, for I love him, but beat the shit out of the bastard.'
'I will, Koun, lord,' I told him as he went still and silent. He fell from the horse, and I turned my eyes on Gernot. Adgandestrius had drawn his remaining men back; they were collecting the wounded ones, but many were dead. He saw my intent and nodded in approval. Gernot was still, in some way, his charge. I would not tell anyone of the adeling's failure to protect him. I walked up to shivering Gernot. 'Brother. You were wrong about one thing.'
He blanched. 'What?'
'You did not kill a man before me. Hagano was but a silly, funny little boy. Put your hand forward,' I said calmly. He hesitated. 'Put it forward, or die.' Hope glimmered in his eyes as he gingerly raised his arm.
'With that hand, you killed Hagano, and with that, you tried to topple me. It is best you forget the hand and live in morbid shame with Odo, if he will have you,' I spat and raised my sword. He rolled away, but Wandal pinned him down, and held his hand out.
'Do not miss, eh?' Wandal said, concerned. What would have been a clean hit took many, for he struggled mightily. In the end, he suffered and squealed, but the hand came off an inch above the wrist, and I left him there, whimpering and semi-conscious.
'He killed Hagano, eh?' Wandal said, disapproving.
'I know, but he is a mauled Germani, Wandal, Odo's slave, if he survives. Kill him, if you like. Odo is more guilty than he is.'
Wandal considered it, but turned away. 'Let him suffer, then. I hope we won’t regret it, eh?'
Adgandestrius grunted, haggard from the battle. He had been a boy before this day, now he was a man, one with a haunted look. He licked his lips as he looked around the field and then spat at the whimpering Gernot. 'It is curious how strong arms and legs are dropped all over the damned field in the battle, but when y
ou have to take them off, it is such hard work. Farewell, Hraban. May we meet again.'
'Tell Gunda …' I hesitated. 'Something. That I was honored by … her sight?'
He laughed. 'Indeed. Now, perhaps, I will get my beautiful, wise Albine, make babies and be happy. Look at all the horses we captured. A fortune.' Indeed, his men had some fifty horses with them. Odo's men had been well-mounted. He could afford to marry now, and Armin would not marry Albine if he had the ring. The ring, likely, would make him powerful enough to dictate to his uncles and father who marries whom. But it was my ring.
'Be happy, adeling, and wish the same for us,' I told him.
'I will. Perhaps we will be relatives one day.' I laughed as they left.
We packed our little gear quickly, I checked on the shivering, unconscious Ansigar, and decided he was dying, his ribs showing from the mess I had created. I left Gernot rolling on the ground. I did not look at him, nor did I say anything more to him. Hagano would have to be happy with Gernot's hand and Odo's head, if I saw him again. I would, I was sure.
Wandal stopped me, noticed me staring at the west. 'I will follow you, but this will end badly. I have a future wife to think about. I thought we would escape and go get our friends. Eh? We could go now, no? It would be easy to go and free them all. But you must have vengeance.'
I nodded. 'You are free to do so, Wandal. I won't let Catualda go, though.'
Wandal looked tired, but nodded. 'I hope we do well, then. One day, you should ask what your friends want, eh?'
'One day, I will,' I said. Then we rode after Catualda, tired to the bone. Felix was quiet, Wandal as well, and I was angry, cursing softly. Catualda.
CHAPTER XIX
Catualda's horse was running hard for the west, and we started after him. He was heading for the Rhenus River, where he was to meet Armin. Suddenly, on a long, flowery valley leading towards Moenus, we finally saw him, but we also saw him rein his horse hard. He was agitatedly staring at the west, the horse confused by his indecision. Felix slitted his eyes as we drew closer. A huge dust cloud was billowing there in the failing light. The Celt's eyes went large. 'Vangiones. They are riding after your father?'
Wandal and I saw them, too. There was an army approaching from Rhenus, riding quickly as a storm, intent on trapping the Marcomanni. Wandal had been right. The enemy knew we were there and were prepared. Not only were the Marcomanni to face the famed, savage Matticati, but many Vangiones.
Catualda turned his horse around and saw us riding for him. He cursed, we saw that even from afar, and then whipped the sorry beast, turning the horse around and around until he slumped, and went north after the Marcomanni army. I removed my helmet and pulled on a leather hood as I whipped the horse after him. The Vangiones were not close but spread out, thousands of them, but we wouldn't linger around.
Wandal was panting hard behind me. 'Your father will know we escaped! Catualda will tell him, eh?'
Felix snorted, terrified at the army spreading out below. 'Not if he wishes to keep Hraban's ring.'
We rode hard to the foothills north of Moenus and kept Catualda in sight until he disappeared onto the rocky ground high up the hill. There, Marcomanni were filtering to the lands of the Matticati, using the evening and the night to move to the position for impending attack, apparently unaware of the enemy moving behind.
I did not care, intent on the bastard Catualda.
We went through the rough ravines, where some lame, abandoned horses walked forlornly. A few Matticati were lying in the grass, slain. We came upon some dispirited Marcomanni guards, who let us through without recognizing us, and we spent the rest of the night waiting for the morning, eating cold lentils and raw eggs Felix stole from some poor chief who had bedded down not far. While we waited for the morning, Felix patched our many scratches and shallow wounds using a crude bone needle and line. We cursed his clumsy fingers, and he mimicked a weeping girl as we did.
Before we knew it, the sun was coming up, its sliver of an orange radiance puncturing some errant clouds on the horizon, promising a beautiful day. In this first light, we saw a huge valley below, greens of many shades, full of rich pastures, many sprawling villages and dominated by a large, powerful village in the middle, apparently Hengsti's home.
Horns blew below us, horses whinnied. The Marcomanni around us were moving, and we saw, a long way down below, Father's banner wave as he charged the vast village, trampling fine fields, thousands of hollering, angry men cutting a swath of death for revenge. We picked our way down with the Marcomanni rearguard, and soon saw the village was burning, and thousands of men were milling around it. I could see individual Matticati running away from the village, horsemen hunting them across fields, laughing at the sport.
'By Woden, they are going to burn them all, eh?' Wandal said, waving his hand around the valley where villages dotted the horizon. He was right. The Marcomanni were scattering. Hundreds of men were riding for the outlying villages. Some three-thousand men, however, stayed put, milling nervously near the burning city.
Then horns sounded harshly and wailing notes filled the crisp air. But they were not Marcomanni horns, but shriller ones, and drums beat across the woods around us. The horns rang endlessly. Dust clouds appeared, and far, in the outlying villages, we heard distant screams of sudden death and battle joined. The Marcomanni had been waylaid.
'It is a trap,' I said needlessly as we reached the field surrounding the burning village, trampling barley all over the place. Out front, the Marcomanni horde was standing, men silent, listening to the sounds around them. I saw my father as we approached, and to my relief, I noticed Catualda standing at the head of the army.
Then a mass of five hundred men rode out, Nihta leading them, the bastard who had left me to Odo, though, I thought gratefully, he left me in one piece. Nihta's force struck out for the west, aiming for a hill some miles away, wooded, but with haze around the top. Suddenly, amidst Nihta's troops, the familiar vexillum rose up to the air, proud but in wrong company. It was the vexillum of I Vangiorum.
I laughed. 'He is going for the Roman fort, remember that there is supposed to be one here? Castrum Luppia?'
Wandal was not listening as he stared at the sights around us. Everywhere around the army, enemy horsemen could be seen probing slowly, the noose tightening. I saw a familiar flash of silver up the hill from red standards and knew Vangiones were out there, cutting off that route. Vago was on the field, and joining the Matticati.
'What shall we do?' Felix moaned.
'We,' I said happily, 'shall ride with my bastard of a father, and pray hard, for he has a plan.'
I saw Burlein on his horse, pointing a sharp, glittering sword at the various directions where many hapless Marcomanni had ridden, and he was furious. 'You let them go, and kept yours!' he screamed at Father.
I heard Maroboodus laugh harshly. 'Will look good, Burlein, to lose some men. Preferably men whose lords attacked me. Follow us, and remember whom you serve,' my father yelled, then turned to Nihta's troop, and got up on his saddle, addressing the men. 'After them, boys, in a bit!' boomed my father's voice. 'Follow them all the way, make it look like you want them dead, and remember, we will conquer if you listen to me!'
Catualda leaned on him and asked something. Father grunted, spat and yelled at him. 'I did not come here to break out, boy. We are here to fight a war. You will follow me, and do not get lost.' He rode away, Catualda following.
Burlein rode up with his men of the southern gau, just some hundreds left. A thousand had been riding to the dust, many never to be seen again. His face was tear smeared, and he rode towards leering, hard souled Maroboodus who did not care to argue with him.
Maroboodus turned to the army, screaming, 'Follow them! Scream, brandish the spears, look mad for their blood, but follow them. Into the Roman fort! And if the door is closed, we will defend like Marcomanni, savagely, in the woods where the horses are not needed! Ride! Ride!'
We rode.
It was a wild r
ide. Men with the best horses were in the lead, weaker and wounded horses fell behind, and those who carried two men were soon the last ones. There were some cursing men who were on foot and likely fell to the Matticati and Vangiones riding and running after us.
Ahead, Nihta's men were whipping their horses hard. The red auxiliary standard was flapping wildly in the wind, and Nihta's men were making it look like they were in panic, riding terrified as if the dead were on their heels. We got closer and had to slow down some in order to give Nihta's men time to get ahead. On the top of the hill, there was a haze of a cooking smoke, and we could see tops of some wooden towers reaching up before we plunged amidst alder trees.
Soon, we could glimpse the structures, the wooden palisades atop earth walls, guard towers, and gates. That was the first time I had seen a Roman fort, and the orderliness and sheer meticulous architecture whispered of absolute power and awe-inspiring strength, of cold patience and ultimately, of will to enslave others. That is what a Roman castrum was made for. It was not made for meek defense, it meant aggressive expansion.
We had been told about them, and how a Roman army on a march would send a few swift men forward to pick a good spot. How one of those tough men planted a simple flag, and how, in but a few hours, a deep ditch was dug, a wall built with the dirt discarded from the ditch and the wall topped with a bristling line of sharpened timber, which they mostly carried on their backs. Men who were marching up knew exactly what they had to do and where they would sleep. The fort was their home, and they took it with them wherever they went. Attack that, and you died swiftly.
Except this castrum was not a marching fort but one with real wooden walls, palisades and enforced gates, though it was not finished. We saw on the left strong, tall walls made of thick timber, men high up looking down, but anything we saw to the right of the main gates had only the earth walls and the sharp stakes on top. We did not see the ditch yet. There were, however, wide towers left and right. Ahead, Nihta exited the wood, and we could see men dodging trees and low branches and looking back at us, gauging our distance. Maroboodus slowed down just a bit.
The Oath Breaker: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 1) Page 46
