The Wolf

by Alaric Longward

  I stood there. I said nothing.

  She lifted an eyebrow. “You do not wonder how I speak? Are you not unused to a bold woman?”

  I shrugged. “I have seen a lot. Though, I am not sure I would ever love another …”

  She looked at me. “You have lost too. And yet, people must marry. Life does not end with the death of another. Not even with the death of my girl. She was a warrior, as are my other daughters,” she said. “Like my two brothers are, she was. She knew the risks.” She shook her head. “And still, I cannot forgive.”

  I frowned. “I have not asked for forgiveness. She was there, I was there,” I said sadly, “and my sword was there.”

  She was nodding, like someone bereft of life. “It is so, by fire and by sword. Your slave spoke to me.”

  “And?” I asked her.

  She hesitated. “I wonder at his gilded tongue. Like asp’s tongue. He asked us about Akkas and Rome. Now, you serve Akkas. Ask him your questions yourself.”

  I hesitated and nodded. “I sent him around to tell men of my fame, to find me answers. I find Akkas…weak.”

  She shook her head. “It is he, you must serve.”

  “He forgot to ask me for my oaths,” I said with a smile.

  She laughed softly. “He also forgot to start planning for the Quadi war during the Thing. He was so elated, he…” she said, and shut her mouth. “Now, you serve him, oath or not. I give you advice and only once. Do not be too curious.” She sighed and tilted her head. I decided she might have easy time convincing men to marry her, even without a sword on a man’s throat. “Tell me, are the stories of you the truth? Are you the Bear your Bero says you are? Are you truly of the first blood of the first men?”

  “They are true,” I said. “I told him to tell men of me. I didn’t tell him to lie. He didn’t.” I showed her the ring. “Of the blood of Woden. It proves it.”

  “In that case, it is sad indeed, that we shall not marry. But married or not, you owe me,” she said huskily. “I lost a daughter to you. You will give me another, one with such high blood rushing in her veins.”

  I blinked. “What? How will I do that?”

  She shook her head. “How…have they not told you how? Is it possible you are…but no, you said you lost someone. You will undress, and I shall. It begins thus, and ends in a smile, if things go well.”

  I tried to say something. I only came up with a stupid question. “What if it is a boy?”

  She laughed, and stepped forward and unclasped her sword. She threw it to the floor, and then stepped forward again, and took a hold of my chain. She pulled me inside, and I felt my head rushing with confusion. She seated me on the bed, and proceeded to remove the chain. It was a tugging match and when we finally managed it, it dawned on me I should not be there.

  I got up, and found a dagger on my throat.

  She smiled. “No.”

  I sat down. She put away the dagger, she pulled off her tunic, and her tattooed body gleamed in the small light that came in from the hall.

  “Why me?” I asked. “There are kings—”

  “They are not of the first blood of the oldest family of men,” she said huskily, tugging at her pants. I felt air stuck in my throat as she stepped out of them, and kneeled before me, her hands going under my tunic. “It is important for the Igyazes, this blood. Great blood gives a woman the best of children. And the great blood makes for the best of sacrifices. Rejoice, Maroboodus, for I could have killed you here, now. Instead, I shall take you inside me, and you will give me my gift.”

  She began kissing my face, then my neck, and pulling off my tunic, she kissed my body. She moved over me, her breasts brushing my chest, and pushed me on my back.

  She moved over me, and then she began tugging my pants off, and I thought even Lok would not refuse, no matter how odd the situation.

  She gave me pleasure, and I to her, and perhaps, even what she desired.

  ***

  Later, I sat on the seat, sore, and shocked. I saw Tyr, and other chiefs were speaking to Bero, and there were many other men gaining new warriors noisily around us. Through the arid smoke, I kept an eye on Akkas’s closest men, his best war chiefs. There were the two bodyguards who never seemed to sleep. Of the best chiefs, there were four. All were tall men with thick blond beards, save for one, the short, apparently permanently ill-tempered man with a clean-shaven chin who had spoken to us when we arrived in the Wolf Hall, and was now arguing with Bero, Tyr. The others were seated around Akkas and would be the men to lead the Hermanduri against the Quadi. Marcus, the thin, bored looking man, was in the hall, the victim of harassment by many of the Germani, all of whom were trying to find a way into a Roman weapon and armor, but those weapons and armor were apparently exclusively meant for Akkas’s best men, and Marcus was not enjoying the feast.

  I enjoyed myself for the rest of that evening and thought of the strange Sarmatian woman and her ways.

  Give her a daughter? She was mad.

  I rubbed my face.

  She was also beautiful. She might have married me, and I’d not have objected, Saxa or no Saxa.

  Bero suddenly leaned closer. I gave him a sour look. “So, did you find out anything?”

  He winked. “From whom?”

  “From the Sarmatians?” I snarled. “From Tyr? From the hundred others you just spoke with?”

  He shook his head. “Only that they have sold all their slaves to Antius. Also, that the slaves have been collected in the depths of Akkas’s lands.”

  I cursed. “Anything about Akkas, and how we might—”

  “Well,” he said and winked again. He seemed to be drunk and oddly happy. “You saw him. He is a puppet. He hardly knows what to do. That group of four, see?” I did. “They are men most formidable. The blond, tall ones, they are called Ulger, the Crow, and the Snake, because he looks like one, with cold eyes.”

  “I see,” I said. “He looks cold as death, which I will give you, Bero, if you—”

  He lifted his hand. “And they command five hundred men each, all Akkas’s best. The short one is Tyr, but he told us already” Bero whispered. “There is no competition between them. Ulger and Tyr are friends, and Crow and Raven are cousins. Tyr is the military brains in the outfit. Red Raven could have a say, as he still lives, but Tyr will plan the war.”

  “Akkas is our of his depth, eh?” Ingulf mused. “Akkas. None get near?”

  Bero nodded. “Indeed. He lets no man or woman too close. The two guards sleep around his bed, they say. They never sleep, others claim.”

  “Surly his wife objects” I wondered too loudly.

  Bero shrugs. “He marries and then sends the women off to live alone,” he said. “He sends his daughters and sons to other tribes for power. He marries often and gets rid of them fast. Sometimes, he recalls a few, but not for long.”

  “He marries many?” I wondered. “And then grows bored.”

  “Wise to send them away, then,” Ingulf said. “No sane man lives with many wives.”

  I leaned close to Bero. “I hear you have been telling people stories about me. About my high blood?”

  He looked embarrassed. “I get carried away.”

  I hummed. “What of the vitka?” I asked him. “We need to find someone who can tell us how to break Roman and Akkas’s relations.”

  Bero was pursing his lips.

  “Spit it out,” I snarled.

  “I hear Akkas really doesn’t speak to anyone but Tyr about the plans he shares with Rome,” he said. “And Tyr said he and Akkas confide with the vitka. That Stick-Wolf. He knows everything about Akkas. They say even Antius speaks to Stick-Wolf, who seems to keep Akkas on a straight trail. That vitka might know much. You are right. He is in the hall, by the way. Somewhere here. He lives in the southern woods, deep where men are not allowed to go, but that’s where he lives. The other vitka, who are here as well, live somewhere out there.”

  I shrugged. I grasped his arm painfully hard. “Then, I shall follow hi
m this very night. You will go with Ingulf, when I do, and say nothing to anyone of my plans. We have made our oaths.”

  I let go of his arm. He cursed and tried to get the blood flowing and nodded at Akkas. “I know, Maroboodus. I won’t risk Maino’s life.”

  “You have certainly kept your ears open,” I mused. “You do seem the sort to sit down with old men and women and gossip.”

  “Gossip is useful, Maroboodus. This all involves Rome and her plans. They want the land under Akkas. They want the slaves, the trade, and perhaps, one day, the soil. They are here to make allies and to guard that rich land,” he said with a sniffle. “They are no traders, not exclusively, at least.”

  I nodded.

  I watched Marcus, whose lips were moving as he drank down the mead of his hosts. His eyes met mine and squinted. I kept staring at his eyes until he turned his head.

  Then, I saw the Stick-Wolf approaching.

  The vitka was just as tall and cowled as he had been earlier, and with him were the three other vitka, all drunk.

  Akkas got up and placed a hand on his shoulder. The four war-lords also made to stand up, but Akkas waved his hand anxiously, and they were seated, though their attention was fully directed at the vitka. Akkas was serving him wine. Bero and I both watched it carefully and silently.

  “Go and see if you can find out something,” I told Bero. “Ingulf shall fetch you after I go after the man.”

  Bero nodded, got up, and left.

  “How many men did we get?” I asked Ingulf.

  “Twenty,” he whispered. “It worked. I turned off all whom the others said they didn’t know. They are good men and should not raise unnecessary attention.”

  I nodded. “Good. I shall have to work this night. Things are going as well, as they should.”

  And they were. We were where we were meant to be. I had my belly full of food and drink, and Red Raven had fooled the enemy. I had emptied my sacks. Antius had approached me and told me about amber and trouble with Red Raven, and still, there was a piece missing.

  Akkas was useless.

  And if he was useless, and Rome had plans for the land and the people, would it be Tyr and the vitka who ruled or would Akkas, as he was bound to, fail at some point? Would he be able to rule at all?

  I watched the vitka for a time, and then got up.

  Ingulf nodded. “All is ready. Good luck.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Later, I got up from the table and nodded at Ingulf. I didn’t head for the doors, but the sleeping quarters. There, I briskly walked to the doorways on that end of the hall and dodged past two guards. I went out, a bit drunk, and turned to right. I found my horse waiting, tied to a post, and jumped on it. As fast as I could, I rode for the tents and dodged past tens of them.

  I looked behind.

  A man had been standing in the shadows of the hall and was taking uncertain steps forward, and then, I lost him in the shadows. I spurred the horse for the woods, and there, slowly, rode up a trail, and then west again, through woods, until I saw the hall. I saluted some people meandering around, and none truly care why I was there. If someone had been watching me, I could only hope they had been lost.

  I sat, and waited.

  The vitka would come soon.

  I had watched them carefully and knew they were readying to leave. I had watched Akkas, sitting by his table, drinking heavily, and then, I saw how Akkas, smiling, had placed the hand of the girl on Stick-Wolf’s. The vitka, holding the hand of a scared girl, had bowed in thanks, and the other vitka had been congratulating him, looking at the girl enviously. The bastard would not stay for long, not with his new toy.

  In the woods.

  They would live in the woods, as Bero had said. Such creatures usually do not live amongst the men, and I knew the lot would be making their abode in the woods. There would be a holy tree, probably a small clearing, filthy totems hanging from the tree branches, and perhaps a hut or a cave. Even a lean-to would suffice, but the vitka were many, would hate discomfort, and would likely have a hall.

  I wasn’t sure about Stick-Wolf and what he was like. Unusual for a vitka, the man made little impression with the habitually odd manners of the vitka and seemed not to care to claim to have mighty magical powers. He was silent, taciturn, always hidden under the hood, and let the others be boisterous, arrogant, god-cursed fool instead.

  I watched men leaving and entering the Wolf Hall, some vomiting helplessly, roaring laughter echoing from the doorways. I waited and then feared they had left already. Or, perhaps they stayed for the night, after all?

  No. They would still be inside. Lok would help me find them and then to kill them.

  I would ride after them, and I would make them squeak.

  The grin of Iron Eye, and the mad face of Hamingja, the völva, flashed through my mind, and I closed my eyes as I wrapped myself in a cloak. I touched the shield tied to my saddle, a round, simple thing, and the sword’s hilt, and I wasn’t sure if I feared or hated the two dead creatures of Hel more.

  In any case, no vitka would enjoy spending time with the Bear.

  I waited, cursed, and then heard a quivering, mad voice from the doorway, half-filled with smoke, and kept my hand on the Head Taker. I saw one of the vitka stagger out and lean on the doorway. Two others followed, all filthy-haired, mad things.

  Then, the Stick-Wolf exited the hall, holding the hand of the girl, who was draped in a cloak. They began walking north for the woods. I followed them and rode in the shadows, looking as they passed houses of the village mostly set under the woods, and then miserable huts and tents, where men looked down with respect. They took to a trail that followed a small stream. The bastards were singing and laughing, and I had no trouble staying on their trail. My horse made its way easily along moss and berry filled wood.

  Soon, all other people disappeared, and I noticed two guards bowing to them.

  We were entering Akkas’s land.

  I went forward, begging for the guards to be too bored to notice me. They were. Their eyes followed the vitka, and not me, and I managed to make my silent way after the men. Later, I watched the bastards stop to piss. I watched Stick-Wolf waiting, as the three tried to make it past a partly fallen tree, opting finally to crawl over it, while he and the girl dodged under it with no trouble. I rode ahead and watched them come up the trail. Stick-Wolf passed me, mumbling to the slave girl, one who looked terrified, while carrying a large horn of mead. His steps were steady, his hands strong, and the voice was calming.

  “Adalfuns!” called one of the bastards. “May we sleep in your meadow? The night is still long, and we have ways to go.”

  Adalfuns shook his head. The three looked forlorn and lost like puppies.

  I let them pass, looked around, and rode after them.

  They kept walking for a dark wood, and night seemed to deepen the further we went.

  Woods are magical places. Filled with beings few see, or understand, and what all men and women should fear. We travel such places in packs of many. Hunters rarely go out alone. In the north, the darkness seems far deadlier, the trees thick with sinister voices, but the woods Rome called the Black Forest, despite their nobler species of trees, had magic of their own.

  The vitka strode confidently through patches of blueberries that grew on the trail, dodging under low hanging branches. The three others were growing tired, and one sat down. The others stopped, but not Stick-Wolf.

  The girl of Stick-Wolf stopped. “What of them?” she asked.

  He laughed gently. “What of them? Let wolves have them. Or a bear. We shall find you some sweet ale, if the mead pleases you not,” the vitka assured the girl. “Aye, I know. Ale rarely is sweet, but I can ask the gods to make it so. We shall do our best, shall we? You will find the place comfortable,” he said.

  She said nothing, but shivered. He pulled her along and left the three vitka abandoned on the trail. I watched him walk deeper and deeper into the woods, on a shady trail lit by beams of light from Ma
ni. I heard the pleasant sound of water trickling down a mossy, rocky hillside. The man suddenly dodged to the side and disappeared down to a dark path. There were totems hanging on trees around it.

  I nodded and got down from my horse. I took the shield and pulled it on my hand. I walked to the road and found the three vitka sitting, one asleep against a tree. One was on his knees, pissing and swaying, and one was walking back and forth.

  I stepped forward, pulled my sword, and smashed the blade down on the man who had been walking. He fell heavily, and I stepped past him, ripping the blade free. The one who had been pissing was still doing it. He had half turned, his toothless mouth open and horrified, and the piss was dribbling on the one who was sleeping. I pushed the sword into the man’s chest, and he shook his head.

  I looked around the night and saw nobody.

  I titled my head. “Stick-Wolf. What’s down the path he took?”

  He croaked. He licked his lips. “He was a holy man. You killed him.”

  “He was a holy man,” I snarled. “Now, he is a holy corpse. The wolves will appreciate the special treat, I am sure. Speak, man.”

  His cock hanging out he lifted his hands. “I have done nothing…wait. You are…him.”

  I nodded and placed the sword deeper into his chest, drawing blood. “I didn’t come here to have a discussion on who I am. I asked you a question, fool.”

  He waved his hand that way. “A meadow. It is just a meadow, small one, with a small hall, and he lives there. Not far. Branches are hung with bones of the sacrificed, the god’s favor. You should leave. They are watching and shall curse you.”