The Wolf

by Alaric Longward

  Men were shifting on their feet. They all knew it would come to that.

  Heinrich tilted his head. “What is the alternative?”

  There was a silence. A shocked silence. Then, men were again speaking, some harshly. They were shocked there might be an alternative.

  The Stick-Wolf and the chiefs leaned closer. One of them, a brute of a man, was clenching his fist, Tyr was shaking his head, and then, Akkas turned to Stick-Wolf. They spoke for a time. Then, Akkas sat back, and they kept arguing. They all expected war. A battle.

  Akkas raised his hand. “My men are dead. You killed them. You are the old Thiuda, and you are a restless, treacherous man. We all know it. We all distrust your words. And still, we must have it. Unless you go to your knee, just one, and give me an oath, we must deal with our grievances in a less than subtle way.”

  The insult was terrible. Men were shaking their heads.

  “And an oath would do?” Heinrich yelled. “You want me to give you an oath and to go to my knee? Did I hear correctly?”

  Akkas smiled. “Nay, it will not suffice, because you are a liar. You give me an oath, and then, you shall tell your men to give me oaths, and if they do not give them on their knees, you shall send them away to the north, west, east, or to Hel herself.”

  Heinrich laughed. “Oh, my men? They will give you oaths?”

  Men were yelling now, insults and curses at both leaders. Akkas pressed on. “And more. Yes, more. Your wife shall stay with Tamura until such time we have beaten our enemies.” Akkas smiled nervously. “Perhaps she will learn how to shoot a bow and to use a lance. You should be careful not to insult her after her stay.”

  Every eye in Heinrich’s thousand flickered to Tamura and her people.

  While potentially useful allies, they clearly were the one thing to put fear in the hearts of the Hermanduri of Heinrich. None insulted them. On the other hand, none of Akkas’s men cheered them, either. Not bound by the ancient rules and ways of the Germani and especially the Hermanduri, such people would easily play a role that could upset not only the Quadi they intended to fight, but also the Hermanduri. They had no use for White Tents or oaths.

  “Oh,” Heinrich laughed. “Wife? You want my wife. Do you demand I give my cock to you as well? Shall I serve it to you on a platter? Or perhaps, in your arse?”

  Men were shouting and beating shields with their spears. The noise echoed across the land.

  Akkas smiled and tossed a bone to a dog, who took it and slunk away. “No, keep your cock. Use it well. Breed men for me to send to war. And it is still not enough. You shall give me your daughter in marriage. I’ll give her a proper son and save your blood from sad future or no future at all.”

  A man about to fall from his horse in rage is a thing to see. Heinrich was pulling his horse around, and the beast was terrified. Mesmerized by the sight, thousands of the Hermanduri were holding breaths, waiting for him to fall, to crash down.

  He didn’t. His hand was clenched on his sword’s hilt.

  “Oh, that is too much,” Bero said. “Shit, but he is not with us now. We must flee. He is trying to coax the Raven to a battle, as he would, but this insult…”

  Ingulf growled him silent.

  Bero might have been right. An ultimate show of power, he insulted Heinrich in a way that could not be fixed.

  I saw the Romans too were watching, waiting. A battle would mean slaves. It seemed just a matter of time. I saw warriors tensing. Stick-Wolf walked off, apparently not interested in taking part in any butchery.

  “What did he expect?” Bero muttered. “What else did he expect? Fool. He should have known.”

  Ingulf laughed and nudged me. “It is your plan. Get to it”

  Bero wiped his face. “He must first say the words. He must—”

  “He knows what he is doing,” I answered. “I do hope so. Wait.”

  “He better,” Bero hissed.

  And he did.

  The Red Raven pulled a sword, and the Sarmatians tensed. They stepped forward, their bows ready. “You demand me for my blood? You say, my oaths are not good enough? Are you calling me a liar?”

  Akkas took a long breath. “I do. You are a liar. No liar can be trusted with simple oaths.”

  “A liar!” Heinrich yelled. “Under the eyes of Woden, is there a man here who can prove I have lied! If there is a man here, who can present proof that I have lied, let that man come forth! If they prove I have lied, I shall do all you asked, Akkas! Under Woden’s one eye! I shall!”

  “Do it,” Bero breathed.

  I took a long breath and stepped forward. “Is this a good time,” I called out, “to air my grievances? I, too, call him a liar.”

  Every eye snapped to my direction. Thousands of them. You might have lived a decade amongst the men, and there would be thousands of people who would not know who you were. Every Hermanduri on that field, before the Wolf Hall, would know me forever. Poets would sing of my words, and men would tell the tale over and over again. I stepped forward again, pushed through to be seen by all. I stood under the incredulous eyes of Akkas, Heinrich, and all the chiefs and their men. Nobody said a word.

  I spat at Heinrich’s direction. “I have been a victim of this man.” I nodded at the Red Raven. “I, a noble of the north who came here to offer my services, and certainly no threat but an ally, was lied to by this man. This thief.”

  “We heard of this matter,” Akkas said, grinding his teeth together. “And I agree it is a concerning matter. I do, after all, keep the peace, while others simply make trouble. To answer your question, this is a bad time to air our petty trouble to the men in this Thing. Who do you think you are?”

  “I? I am Maroboodus, a Goth, a son of the first people, and I demand my ring, that of Woden’s own blessed treasure, and my treasure. I want all that was stolen be returned. I want compensation for the man they killed. Aye, I want a wergild.”

  There was still an incredulous silence.

  Akkas broke it. “Tell us what happened. Tell it so every man hears him.”

  Heinrich spat, as I stepped forward, drawing my sword.

  “That man, there,” I said and pointed a dirty finger at Heinrich, “made a pact with me. He and I were to slay a relative who has been riding after us. The attack failed. It failed miserably. It was not his fault.”

  “I was attacked by the Iazyges!” Heinrich screamed. “Those dogs of Akkas!”

  Men were shouting and shoving each other, arguing the matter.

  I roared, and slowly, they went silent. “I care not what the reason for our bad luck was. I am talking about what happened after I came to our camp. You were gone. My man slain. My treasures, including the ring, gone. I want a wergild from the dog here. I want my things returned, the ring especially. Then, I’ll leave you to your war and find one of my own.”

  Akkas was unhappy. I was a bothering insect buzzing in his ear, in the moment of his triumph. The great Hermanduri was thinking about removing me. A pair of heavy set men stood, were standing on either side of him, champions both, their faces painted with black, and were leaning close to him, perhaps to get such instruction. Both, twins, were the sort of servants that might anticipate the orders of their lord, having served him for long years.

  “Oh, come then,” I snarled at them. “No justice for Maroboodus? I’ll show you how a Goth dies. I’ve not led men in war to decimate the Boat-King, and I have not fought in the Saxon wars, nor did I save Finnr the Merry and cheated the Semnones out of their great bounty to be killed like a dog. I am the man of highest blood, and I prove it.”

  Tamura’s eyes gleamed, and she spoke softly with her men.

  I went on. “At least I’ll spit in your face before I die. Come, or send a man to fight me. No? Bury me with Woden’s bounty, my ring, when you do.”

  The bow went up.

  Tamura stepped forward, her mouth open, and Heinrich was smiling gently.

  Akkas, finally, lifted his hand. “What bounty?”

  “My
ring,” I said. “The one that shit took. Draupnir’s Spawn. A treasure all men in the north worship.”

  Akkas shook his head, a look of greed playing on his lips. Stick-Wolf, I thought, was shaking his head with disgust as he walked away, though I couldn’t see his face under the hood.

  Akkas smiled. “You are not solving my problem. Nor his. We have no time—”

  “Lies?” I asked him. “Oh, he lied. I met him in the ruins of your man’s home. They were burning there, inside the stable, poor people, and this one was seeking a cellar. He told me that that man had been his oathsman, and he had tried to marry him to an enemy war-lord’s daughter, and that war-lord served you, and you lured this oathsman away from him with the woman. He said he killed another earlier.”

  Men were roaring, mocking me, mocking Heinrich. They were shouting insults, and a wave of them on both sides surged forward, only to stop at the commands of their war-chiefs.

  Heinrich looked dreadful, a thing of ashen death, his face white, his eyes smoldering. “Lies,” he said hoarsely.

  “Prove it!” Akkas yelled. “The man gave witness. He told us. It is your word, and his, and he calls you a liar. He is no peasant, it is easy to see.”

  “Swords,” Heinrich said stiffly. “Let a sword decide who lies. Let it be so.”

  Akkas hesitated and nodded. “Let it be so.”

  I stepped forward.

  Heinrich shook his shoulders and turned to his men. He pointed a finger at a young, pale man, with a hair so long as to reach his arse. “Well, Ygrin. You heard them. You heard what is at stake. Will you give him what he deserves? I call him a liar, he does me, and both call on Woden. Give him death. I call him a thief himself.” He lifted my ring, and men were whispering. “It is mine. He gave it to me as a reward for our help. He lies.”

  Akkas got up and lifted his hands. “What say you, men? A sword to decide on a liar?”

  And they all howled. They howled their agreement to the proposal. Both sides did.

  “Why,” said the fat Roman, Antius, pushing daringly through the Sarmatians, speaking a very broken dialect of Germani, “do you agree to this? They both look like liars. They are, no doubt. Have the war.”

  “Antius,” Heinrich laughed. “The Roman who knows nothing of Woden’s glory and the way we deal with—”

  “Why did he leave such a ring—” Antius began, but Heinrich roared and shook his head.

  “Come. Let us get to it.”

  Akkas nodded. He was smoothing his moustache. “You were seeking a hall. I have one, if you prove yourself to me. Expose his lies and enjoy our hospitality and serve me. Can you show me your worth? Can you do this?”

  Heinrich didn’t stop to wait. He nodded at Ygrin. The young man nodded, pulled an ax from his belt, hefted his shield, guided his horse forward, and charged me. He rode at me, hissing softly, and men were roaring at the unfair battle. A horseman against a man with no shield? It irked everyone.

  The young man was a good rider. I dodged and fell on my back as the horse flashed by, and the ax as well. I rolled and jumped aside, begging Lok to aid me.

  The man was turning, riding like a wildfire, his hair behind him and ax high, and he cut treacherously fast for me. The horse snorted, eyes round with fear, but on it came.

  Ingulf flashed by me and crashed into the horse. They stopped together and tottered, and then, he pulled the horse down. Ygrin howled, rolled, and came to his feet.

  I walked for him.

  He laughed, lifted his shield, spat at Ingulf, and charged forward, the ax high.

  I watched the ax as he came. He rushed at me so fast, but I grasped his shield and pulled him to the side, but he came easily with me, not surprised. I stabbed at him from high. He danced forward and took my sword with his shield. He slashed his ax down from high as well, and the roar of the chiefs and people deafened us, for I had no shield, and he was fast, and I seemed clumsy. The ax slashed the air by my face, rattling along my chain, and I kicked at him. He dodged and struck again. I dodged under it and pushed at his shield. He kicked at me. I pushed his foot away and danced back. He roared and came on, slashing the ax down again and again, and I kept dodging and moving away, the sword at a ready.

  He spat, cursed, and came at me. Then, he made a mistake. He howled as he was slipping on the mud, his neck exposed.

  I saw my chance.

  And I didn’t take it.

  He recovered so fast and jumped forward to slash at my thigh or knee.

  He expected me to be swinging.

  I had stepped away instead and he fell before me, hitting at noting. I pushed the sword into his neck. He fell on his face and howled. I stepped forward and stomped on his bloody neck. I spat on his back and danced over his corpse, while looking at the Red Raven with spite, holding my sword high.

  Men roared their approval. They loved me, they loved the battle, and a lie had been exposed. The vitka were dancing, the chiefs paying their bets, and Akkas was still, for he would still fight a battle. Heinrich, indeed, looked ready to bite. He was gnashing his teeth together.

  “The victor!” yelled Akkas. “The lies have been exposed!”

  The roaring approval rose higher and higher. It went on for quite a while, until Akkas silenced the crowd by raising his hand. I panted and stood in my place. It took a long time for the thousands of men to go silent.

  Akkas pointed a finger at Heinrich. “Well?” he called out. “He called you a liar, and your man is dead. What say you? Will you submit, or will you die? You have killed my men, so I have a feud against you. More than one, that is. It is over, the negotiations. Decide.”

  They all waited for Heinrich to turn his horse and to call his men to make a shield-wall.

  Instead, he held his face, suddenly looking exhausted.

  Men stared at him in wonder.

  Then, Heinrich raised his hand. He tossed the ring to me. I caught it and stared at him in wonder.

  And then, he spoke. “There is old, bad blood between us, Akkas. You know this. Same goes with others, though you have been a boil in my arse for years. The Romans, they choose you. It is for—”

  “A reason, and you know it,” Akkas said darkly. “You brought it on yourself.”

  I looked at Bero, and he nodded. There were secrets, and he would try to expose them. If things worked out. Nothing was certain yet. Not a thing.

  “Woden spoke with swords,” Heinrich said. “I will admit to the murder of your men. The ring was given to me lawfully. Let him choke on it. The rest of his lies? I care not.”

  “But you lied about my men,” Akkas said, nervous, afraid. “Do not walk back on your words, Heinrich. Woden heard and—”

  “I said I admit the lie!” he said.

  “And now?” Akkas asked.

  Silence was deafening. It nearly hurt one’s ears.

  Heinrich took a ragged breath. He hopped down from his horse. He staggered forward. He went to one knee before astonished then disgusted Akkas. The vitka were staring at him, aghast, his warriors and bodyguards ogled at him with shock. Antius did as well, then he stared at Bertilo, who looked calm as a morning lake, and then at me and Bero. He was frowning.

  Heinrich spoke and sounded like a regretful ghost, his voice a whisper. “If Woden abandons me, then so be it. I swear to obey your commands, Thiuda of the Wolves, where it does not strip me of my honor. By Woden, I so swear.”

  “Coward!” someone yelled. Just once. Only once. It was a slap, simple and clear. Heinrich stared ahead, not saying a thing.

  “And the girl?” Akkas asked gutturally, a mix of victorious joy and fear in his voice. He had just put down his foe, but likely not in a way they had hoped for. They had hoped to kill him. Now, as we had planned, he remained. He took the cock in his arse like the best of actor. He lost Ygrin, a champion of little worth and predictable moves, and he would lose a lot of influence. He would lose many of his remaining men. “What of your girl? What of your wife?”

  “They will be here, tomorrow,
for the sacrifices, and we shall feast and have a wedding,” Heinrich said wearily, a beaten man. “As agreed. I agree, I mean.” His voice meandered like a lost foal.

  I was staring at them as I walked back to Bero and Ingulf.

  Ingulf was shaking his head. “I do not see how he can do this. I would never do this. Never.”

  Bero smiled. “He is a Thiuda, a king. That’s the difference, Ingulf. He knows how to suffer. Maroboodus’s plan was brilliant.”

  “And now?” Ingulf asked. “His own daughter. Gored by that man? I—”

  “We spoke of the possibility,” I laughed. “We spoke of what might happen. Akkas would have to offer something when asked. Not to do so, not trying to spare Hermanduri lives, was not a possibility. We were thinking he might ask for his daughter. Akkas has never met Heinrich’s daughter. Few have. He keeps his family deep in his own lands. He’ll find a loyal, clever servant, or two, if he replaces his wife as well. And only, if we must. We have the night.”

  I smiled as Ingulf laughed.

  I noticed Antius looking at me, and the Sarmatians were as well. I saw one of them, a champion with a horsehair helmet, cursing softly. He had a wound on his face.

  Tamura, however, was staring at me with interest. I wondered if she had been related to the girl, after all.

  Akkas turned away from Heinrich, who was getting up and moving for his stricken force. He walked down to them, and as if lost, the thousands of Hermanduri were slowly dispersing.

  Akkas caught my eye and pointed a finger at his hall. I bowed.

  CHAPTER 8

  We were given a tent amid Akkas’s men. They were all men of one warlord, or another, but we had a comfortable one, and soon, I had been fetched to attend a feast. We were told to wait outside the Wolf Hall.

  There was a great number of Heinrich’s war-lords and champions going in, and some were coming out, looking sick.

  Ingulf was walking back and forth near the doors, peeking in, and Bero was speaking to a drunken man near the doorway.