The Bane of Gods: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 5)

by Alaric Longward

  His lips were foamed with ale, his biceps bulging, and long hair gray and white. His eyes flashed my way, and I was sure the man had smiled.

  Adalfuns the Crafter.

  Here was the man who had helped me before, as requested by Hulderic. He had done so two times, and he had promised me three. I walked to him, and he kept chiseling away at the door. It was an elaborately carved thing, obviously for Maroboodus, and featured animals, trees, and spirits, plain, dangerous, smooth faced creatures.

  He saw my scrutiny and tapped one of the things. “Your father asked me to make a door with such creatures. Claims to have travelled the paths of the spirits once. Perhaps he has.” He smiled up at me. “Sit. You look older, Hraban. Not a boy anymore? Nearly thirty?”

  “I don’t know. Over, certainly.” I leaned close to him. “Where did you take Tear?”

  He shook his head with a glint in his eye. “Tear? My old Zahar? Where did you take Odo, her son? And Ishild. And Lif? Ishild’s boy?” He chuckled. “She knew you would get the lot killed, save for Lif. So, it went well then. The prophecy is slumbering for now. Midgard is safe.”

  “You are a fool, and speak nonsense,” I said, and wasn’t sure he was.

  He pushed me back, and asked me one more thing, and it was an important one for him. “And where is,” he asked, “the Draupnir’s Spawn? Where is that damned ring?”

  “The same hole where the rest of them died,” I told him. “Below the mountain, down the hole to Hel.”

  “Indeed?” he said, for he had developed a serious worry for The Bear and The Raven, and had never trusted me. “How did you not fail? With all the mistakes, you should have failed utterly. The entire future of Midgard was at stake, and you cared not.”

  “I failed,” I said, hurt by his distrust, “but Ishild didn’t. She sacrificed herself, and the boy, and the ring is gone with her to the depths of the mountains, and perhaps the dverger have found it? A selfless act was needed, but it was Ishild’s.”

  “Oh!” he said. “Ishild’s? Brave girl. Brave. And poor girl. I am sorry to hear this.”

  He should be. She had been his daughter.

  He was muttering. “Always thought she was worth a great deal. She is with Tear, she is. I know. I knew before I asked. She is in Woden’s hall, and there they sit amongst the brave, and feast well, and smile. It is their lot.”

  I felt chills travel up and down my back. “I—”

  “Don’t ask,” he whispered and winked. “And you father thinks you should listen to me. So here it is. Listen. He likes your boy, and wants me to share my vision with you. In that vision Gervas might rule the Marcomanni, one day.”

  “Will he?”

  He snorted. “I don’t know. I truly don’t. Gervas might lead a family of squirrels one day. Everything is possible. I lied to him. He was so happy.” He hesitated. “But I did see something else, Hraban. You won’t like it.”

  “He told me I would!”

  “Don’t be a child, Raven. It is quite tedious,” he said. “Remember Lif?”

  “Yes!”

  He poked me. “Forget your anger and like it was with Lif, leave your child behind.”

  I looked at him carefully. “That is the plan. That is the agreement.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t lie to a liar! Your father worries you will come back and try to grab the boy, but you have already drawn some plans, haven’t you? I know what you have done, and agreed on, what you are going to do, and why. I know what the price for all of it might be. You want to keep them safe, and chose to be rid of your trusted friends, and to play a game with such high stakes. You cannot afford to play that game. The price? High! Very high! You might win, you are too far to quit playing the game, but don’t involve your loved ones in this game.”

  “I—”

  “Be quiet. If your son stays here, and Cassia as well, and definitely your poor, foolish friends, you go north with the ones you don’t care about, and play the game to the end, if you must. Gervas will be among the great. I do not know if he will rule, but he shall shine with happiness. You will miss him, and the others, and still you might one day bring them all back to your side, but for years, your game will be so dangerous, there will be … death. This is so. I see it. You couldn’t let Lif go, and she nearly died for it. The ravens, they also whisper of it. Of death.”

  I hissed and leaned close to him. “Go north alone? And leave them, again? I have left them for years, and—”

  “I told you,” he said and poked me painfully with his finger. “I know things. Often, not the things people ask of me, but I do know some things. They smell death, the ravens.”

  I frowned. “The ravens? Or just ordinary ravens.”

  He frowned. “I told you not to ask me about these things,” he said irascibly. “What? Can’t you hear me? Forgot to wear the damned helmet in your last battle? Oh, I know plenty of people have slapped your head with various tools of death, haven’t they?”

  “Yes,” I said patiently.

  “Leave him here. Perhaps leave Cassia here. And don’t take your friends either.”

  “I have tried to get rid—”

  “Tell them the truth, fool!” he snarled. “That way, they will leave you, and never follow you again. Go alone, with that Adalwulf, and that red-head. Maroboodus is bluffing, by the way. He won’t hurt Gervas, if you won’t obey his every wish. You have suffered greatly for honor, then for family, and now, perhaps they are safe, and home. But the path you chose?”

  “I chose it for them.”

  “You did,” he said softly, “but it will be a costly path. Leave the lot behind.”

  He went on carving, and was silent for so long, I had to wonder if he had spoken at all.

  I cleared my throat. “Is this the third time you are helping me?”

  “Yes, it is,” he said tiredly. “I am done with this tedious duty of herding you around. We don’t meddle in these affairs anyway. Those are the rules, and didn’t I make them? Yes.” He poked me with a strong finger. “Do as I say.” He looked at me closely and his shoulders slumped. “Or do not.”

  “If I do not,” I asked, “will Gervas die?”

  My heart was pounding as I feared the answer.

  He sighed, and didn’t answer. “Make Armin great. Make Armin like a god under Sunna, the King of Rhenus River, the Lord of the Cherusci, equal to Rome and your father. It will be a war to remember.” He looked sad. “I love the Germani people, and especially the Germani of the rivers. Alas! The ancient Cherusci? The proud Chatti? Even the valorous Marcomanni? They will one day be replaced by the less kind, hungry Germani of the East and North, crude and impatient. Even by your kin, the Goths. You are too much like them.” He gave me a sad look. “My advice is given, my duty fulfilled. Leave him here. And Cassia as well. And the ones you love.”

  “Will he die if I take him?” I asked again.

  He shrugged. “That, I cannot see.”

  I sat there, frowning, until he went back to his work.

  “Where is Armin?” I asked. “Is he with Sigimer?”

  “Yes,” he said. “He is there.”

  “Perhaps I will take my son, my wife, and go far away,” I told him. “And let Armin, Tiberius, and Father spend their lives fighting.”

  He laughed. “Ah, Cassia’s wise words. Go to the North! Your father owns an island. The Bear Island? That is in the Saxon coast. Go there, and see there is no hiding from your blood and fate. Go anywhere, and you will see. Your daughter Lif is safe, mighty—”

  “Do you know—”

  “You will never see her again;” he growled. “Never. Do not even try. But she is mighty indeed, beautiful, and will do well in life. Your son would too, if you just listen to me. No, the North is no place for happiness. Not now. Perhaps, later?”

  “I thank you for your wisdom,” I said stiffly.

  He sighed and went on chiseling. He spoke gently. “Rest assured, your mother is also in the Golden Hall, feasting, and so shall be all the
line of your loved ones, and you, eventually, a broken and sad man, but so much wiser. Years from now. Decades! Go, and play your part in the play, and now serve Armin. Amuse the gods! You will. I know that for sure, and the ravens do as well. It will be a glorious thing to see. I pray you can take what is coming.”

  “Glorious thing to see?” I asked him, trying to push his ominous words from my mind. “You are coming with me then?” I asked him.

  “No, but I shall see it anyway,” he answered. “And I shall not tell you my true name, though you would try to ask again. You have well guessed it already. Go, and travel your sad, uncertain road. You do it for love, but you cannot outrun fate. A price must be paid. It is only fair.” He went on working, and I watched the creature I was sure was Woden, or some part of him, and wondered how easily I denied his wisdom.

  Leave them behind. Let them be happy.

  Only I would be unhappy. And I didn’t trust my father. Never him.

  I shook my head. Gervas would go with me. He would, because I loved him. So would the others. At least for a time.

  He smiled as read the decision from my face.

  “So. Marcus.”

  I squinted my eyes at him. “I have no—”

  “Ah, no,” he said. “You will have Marcus help you escape with him. You will extort him. And you have a band of slit-throats living in the trading village by the river. I know. Thracians. Must have cost you a fortune, or rather it has been expensive for your brother Gernot. He is a devious one, isn’t he? But Marcus is indeed the key. You kept him safe. He owes you now.” He looked sad. “But that silver-haired bastard keeps a watch of Gervas anyway.”

  “I shall deal with that one,” I told him darkly. “Sasas.”

  “I know. You know, Marcus thought of going away to deal with some issues in the West. Hoped to escape this whole coming ordeal. He planned to stay away for some years. But a man stopped him. It is a man who knows how he gambles with Maroboodus’s wealth.”

  “Who is this man?” I asked.

  “It was I,” he laughed softly. “It is my gift to you. Dance well with the spear, Raven. Woden loves you well. At least for now. And should things go sour, know you will see his hall, one day, and feast with friends.” He reached out to me, and grasped my shoulder. “I will give you this for free. When you kill Sasas, don’t talk with him. Just kill him. Fast.”

  ***

  The next midday, Marcus was riding Gervas home. I met him at the doorway, and he turned his face away, as usual. He didn’t leave. He spoke. “I am grateful to you. I of course owe to plenty of others, but that family the most, by far. Adalfuns spoke to me this morning. That it is time. But what you are asking—”

  “I hear,” I told him, “that Father has men sunk into a well, when he gets rid of them. He loves coin, and loyalty, and you have not looked after his coin, or your loyalty.”

  “It is a sickness,” he answered, lips dry. “I cannot help myself, and I cannot seem to win. Fortuna is a true bitch. The dice disagree with me. This is the reason I fled Rome to start with. Gambling. Squandering my family fortune.”

  “Will you help me?” I asked him. “You have little choice.”

  “I cannot,” he said with a begging voice. “I have a good life here and—”

  “It is over. Father is busy at middays, damn you,” I cursed. “We will settle on a date, and Cassia and the rest of us shall leave, and I will take my son with me. You may come as well. Steal what you can, Marcus, before you leave. Some high lord will give you employ, no doubt, or you buy your own estate, live happily, until you lose your fortune with dice.”

  He looked at me, and seemed to deflate like a holed wineskin. He had a magnificent position with Father, one with unprecedented trust, and access to vast riches. And yet, there was also shame, and possibly a painful death in his near future.

  “I fought and killed four men for you,” I snarled. “Four. And still—”

  “In a week,” he whispered. “You will leave in a week. And I will take Gervas to you. And what of the Sarmatian?”

  “I will deal with him,” I snarled. “And listen. There is more.”

  He listened to me, then turned, threw up in fear, and left, weeping.

  Week. One week.

  The Thracians had indeed cost me, and Gernot a fortune. They had been waiting patiently, serving the Marcomanni, but in truth, serving me. Tudrus knew them well, knew how to contact them, as did Cassia. The Gold Wolf still had fifteen men with him, his children as well, and a new wife, but he would be ready with a galley. Soon, finally, we would leave.

  But not alone.

  I would deal with our guard. After all, I had told Cassia to make sure the man was in love with her, and while Maroboodus claimed the man had no weakness, no man was strong when asked to decide between love and lord.

  She had done well.

  CHAPTER 30

  We left a week later, early in the morning. We bid Gervas a teary goodbye, and he hugged us with a ferocious, brave grin on his face. Cassia was weeping, Maroboodus was sitting on his horse and without so much as a nod, he led my son off, chatting amicably with him. He rode up to meet with disgruntled Dacian emissaries, who had been raising all sorts of trouble after claiming to have been cheated in amber trade. They had waited for several days.

  They had been cheated indeed.

  By Marcus.

  Marcus had made sure there would be an unusually large and chaotic group of people in the hall of Maroboodus that day. He would be busy.

  Wandal came last, covering Cassia and a wagon with our gear. Tudrus and Adalwulf had sent their families to the harbor already with Agetan. Euanthe, their daughter, and Adalwulf’s Gisil and Wulf were safe. The rest of us were riding silently, our weapons close. Ten men of Sasas were riding before us languidly, speaking happily, and not even the billowing clouds that promised rain later seemed to bother them. Sasas led them. The great hills and woods spread around us like an inviting shroud of greenery, but soon, the road wound to a field of wheat. The field ran downhill for miles and there, far beneath, we saw the river that ran due south for the Danubius. There the trading took place, no longer in Carnutum and other towns on the Roman shore, and haphazard warehouses and villages had sprung all around the trade post. Ships of all sizes were tied to a wide wooden pier, and riches flowed through it to the Marcomanni pouches.

  Right there, Sasas raised his hand.

  I stopped my horse. The others did as well. The men of Sasas turned to look at us.

  “What is it?” I called out, and saw Sasas riding around a pair of men who had been waiting for us, both on horses, and they had a string of pack animals.

  Sasas rode to the midst of his men, and cocked his head to me. “Raven,” he said with spite, his hand on his sword’s hilt. He wore his best armor, chain gleaming to his knees, and a helmet with silver swirls and a leather neck guard that had bronze studs covered his head.

  He looked as splendid as a young god.

  The Marcomanni rode around us in a loose circle. Sasas’s face was sweaty and nervous. Cassia hopped out of the wagon.

  His eyes went to her. They were full of longing.

  “Why,” I asked, smiling thinly, “did we stop?”

  He whistled. The ten Marcomanni drew weapons.

  “Care to make a guess? Cassia?” Sasas said. “Tell him.”

  Cassia shrugged. “He wants me to ride away with him and his men to the East.”

  Sasas nodded. “And why?”

  Cassia gazed up at me. “Because he is in love with me.”

  Kill him, do not talk to him, Adalfuns had said. And yet, I didn’t move.

  “As you are with me,” Sasas said. “Hraban, the Oath Breaker, whom all men fear, but not I. She and I, Hraban, share love. I took over guarding her two years ago. I have sat in your hall every day before you came back. For one year, Raven, I have spoken with her, every day. She and I have ridden the land together, when you were in the South. On those rides, we held hands and spoke of love.�
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  The bastard was full of honor and love. He was bursting with it.

  Held hands? I asked Cassia to try to seduce the man, but holding hands?

  He grimaced at me. “You damned filth. I hate you. I have hated you when you were gone, when she wept for you.”

  “Silence,” I snarled.

  “Give the sign,” Tudrus snarled nervously, eyeing the men.

  He laughed and rode back and forth. “I hate you for bedding her when you came back. It has made me physically sick. It makes her sick. This night, when she is a widow, we can finally fulfill our deepest wishes,” he told me with harsh, clipped tone. “She will marry me.”

  I spat. “She doesn’t love you. Nor will she marry you.”

  He gasped and took a quick breath, and pointed a finger at her. “Oh? She and I, we share love. I have filled a hole in her life. I was even a father to your son. No kiss like ours could ever lie.”

  Kissed?

  A snake slithered around my heart, and squeezed.

  The price shall be high.

  He went on. “Oh, you don’t believe me? She wants this, Hraban. She asked me for it. She begged me to stop you from taking her away, and here we are, as she requested. I shall gladly leave my service for her. I have quivered, Raven, watching her bathe in the springs.”

  “You fucking bastard. You have had nothing with—”

  He slapped his hand on the sword’s hilt. “Silence! We have had evenings and days of friendship. But we also had a morning, Hraban, just one morning, a glorious morning of love. It was months before you came back to poison us. I had watched her. I had listened to her. I had watched her suffering, her tears, and I had admired the brave face she put up for her son’s sake. I had pitied her. I had loved her, from afar. It was a torture. Marcus picked me for the position, and then I asked Marcus to send me elsewhere. I couldn’t stand the duty. It burned inside me, like fire. I told her of my hopeless love, and she looked shocked. See? Shocked.” He took a long breath, and shook his head.

  Bastard.