The Wolf

by Alaric Longward

  “Fine, but I need you to say you will put Akkas down,” Heinrich snarled. “That is what I need, if none else. During the sacrifices. You will betray him, his guards, Tyr, and the other dolts, will all die.”

  “Yes,” she said. “He shall do the sacrifices tomorrow at midday. He goes and speaks with a Roman leader after in the Roman camp, but we shall—”

  Red Raven pointed a finger towards the Wolf Field. “That Antius is not their leader?”

  She shook her head. “He leads the traders and the guards, but not the soldiers. There is a group of soldiers…a legionnaire cohort out there. A Prefect, they call the man who leads.”

  “Why is there a Roman leader out there?” I asked. “Is he alone?”

  She shook her head. “He is not. I just told you. I know little of their plans. I am…was merely the trusted of Akkas. We are related, however distantly.”

  “And so, you shall obey me from now on,” the Red Raven asked slyly. “You will obey, and I shall keep the girls hostage, until I am convinced. Do your deed tomorrow, and you shall see them, from time to time.”

  She spat. “No! If I betray my master, I shall want my girls returned to me!”

  He shook his head. “And then, I get to fear you? No. I will return one, but not the other. I have not yet decided which one I prefer. I will know tomorrow.”

  She clamped her mouth shut, and I saw tears in her eyes.

  “You agree?” Heinrich asked. “You suddenly seem reluctant.”

  She spat.

  He laughed, got up, and walked to the other prisoners. He grasped one of the girls, and began pulling her after him for the cave. She was hissing with fear, and the men turned to watch the man.

  “No!” Tamura called. “Wait!”

  “No, you will learn a lesson in humility now,” Heinrich said. “One does not teach a dog by petting it.”

  And I, the fool, stepped forward.

  I stepped before him, and my sword was out.

  He stopped and looked at me with mad fury. He trembled and gnashed his teeth together, and his men looked on with astonishment. Ingulf drew a sword.

  “We do not rape women,” I said simply. “It is beneath us.”

  “It’s not beneath a king,” he roared. “Ask Bertilo. Ask him what I did to that bitch he loved and guess if anyone will ever betray me like that again?”

  I looked at Bertilo, who, for once, had raw emotion on his face. It was rage, wrath to burn gods. He looked away, swallowing. Heinrich looked at me and saw I was not moving. He shook his head like a stung ox and kicked at the girl. She yelped. “Make them fear you. It is the one way to make people obey! You should learn this fast! You care for the horse-humped bastards? You do?”

  “They were trying to butcher me,” I spat. “Kill them, if you must. Let it be all you do. Please. Thiuda.” I said the words of humility, but ready to die and to kill. Ingulf was inching closer to me, shaking his head at my stupidity, or perhaps at Heinrich’s.

  Heinrich shook his head to clear it and turned to Tamura. “Before I change my mind, speak.”

  “I agree,” she said softly.

  “You agree,” he said. “You agree to kill Akkas, and you shall receive one girl back. One will stay. And you shall obey me. If I tell you to crawl, you shall.”

  She nodded, looking sick. She shook her head. “I shall.”

  “Later,” he said. “We shall discuss the Roman issues. I think you know a lot of it.”

  She shook her head. “The Romans won’t stand for your usurpation. They will—”

  “I will deal with them. Or he will,” he said. “You wish to go and see if Maino is alive? And this Erse?”

  I nodded.

  He pushed her. “Fine. You will take him there. And I will see you tomorrow, Maroboodus. In the sacrifices.” His eyes were unkind, and I nodded.

  He got up, and his men untied Tamura. She got up unsteadily and stared as the men of Heinrich prepared to leave. They pulled her girls on horse, and they watched her, looking brave, and still terrified. They left slowly, and I waited with her, and she finally roused herself. Ingulf moved away to get his horse, and Tamura looked at me with fury. “You planned this. All of this.”

  “I didn’t plan on living a long life,” I said. “But yes.”

  She smiled bitterly, held her face, and looked at the dwindling fire. “She betrayed me. Fire did. She left me abandoned and alone, and my girls lost.”

  “You have nearly a hundred riders,” I said. “Surely they are valuable enough for Red Raven to try to make up for this night. You will thrive. They—”

  She snorted and spat. “But they will see my honor gone. I will never fit with the Hermanduri, ever. And I wanted to. I did. You have no idea what is going on. Not at all. It matters little. I won’t tell you. You cannot save Mada and Saruke, but I will do as he asked me to do, and I’ll beg to the gentle mother they will be alive tomorrow, and I get one back. Your Erse and this shit Maino are in the Roman camp. I will show you.”

  ***

  She led us forward, silent the entire way.

  We followed. We were as silent. I saw Bero was trying to catch my eye, but I avoided it. I’d hang him with his son, and only then tell him what a fool he was. A golden tongued schemer had been fooled to the bone, and still…

  I felt the taste of shit in my mouth, a taste of foulest excrement, and couldn’t shake the thought of the looks on the faces of the captured women.

  Nor could I shake the thought of Red Raven, and the evil that lurked under the hard warrior’s skin. The look on his face…

  Ingulf broke the silence. “It was your plan.”

  I opened my mouth to say something and closed it. The Crafter’s words came to my head, and I thought of the Three Spinners—one caring for the past, one for the present, and the last one, the sad, dark one, furiously cutting the threads. I could only wonder what Mada and Saruke were suffering.

  Tamura was so silent, it almost hurt me. She had planned on killing me, and still…it had been her way. There was not a malicious bone in her. Just a warrior from a land we didn’t know. And we, I knew, were not gentle with our sacrifices, either.

  She was weaving her way through forests paths in the darkness, like she had always known them, and if she feared spirits, she didn’t show it. No vaettir presented itself to us, no enemy, and only foxes gave us curious glances as we passed their holes. She turned to look behind her, and I saw her face in the light of the Mani and tried to harden my heart. The warrioress had been hurt in the one way, and I had known it, that could break a man, or woman, no matter the tribe or nation.

  Ingulf was walking behind me, and I gave him a look. He looked away, his face dark with fury. “He is not a man we should follow,” he whispered. “A hall from him, his causes, his—” He shook his head.

  “He has been honest, all this time,” I said. “He never lied…”

  He spat. “He is like Magni and Iron Eye,” he said. “Put together. And now, we are… He will hurt those girls.”

  “He will hold them,” I whispered, knowing it to be a lie.

  “Akkas is a fool,” he said, “and Heinrich is just evil.” He shook his heavy head. “We are too.”

  We went forward, and I stayed silent as Tamura walked a new path, where deer-shit was scattered. Soon, we found a great trail, wider than most, and she squatted near it. She pointed a finger to north. “Wolf Field is that way, an hour away. And the Romans camp here, to the south. Not far. Follow.”

  She rode on and took to riding out of the past for the south, and we traveled through thick woods. There, soon, she turned on a well-used trail for the west. We rode it, and she was nervous and careful, looking at the shadows. The horse tracks were a day old, I could see it in the light of Mani, but there were marks of a shoe, and it looked odd.

  She nodded at my puzzled look. “Legionnaire sandal. Caligae, they call them. Hobnails in the bottom to keep you balanced. We must take to the woods soon. They will have sentries.”

&n
bsp; She took to a small trail that led to deeper in the woods. There, she climbed up to a sparsely wooded hill and hopped down from her horse. She looked down at something, her face grave.

  In a deep, hidden valley, beside a hill and a stream, fires were burning fiercely. It took me a moment to understand what I was seeing.

  Ingulf snorted. “The man couldn’t see his nose if his life depended on it.”

  Tamura murmured assent. “He’d die in the steppes in a day.”

  It was a fortress. I had not seen the like before. There were hill-forts and walls in many a settlement of the north, but this one had been built as if by gods. It was built in perfectly straight lines, ordered as an old woman’s hut.

  She spoke gently. “II Augusta Thracum. That is seven hundred men raised by Augustus of Rome, an auxilia unit from the land of Thrace. They have some fifty regular Roman soldiers as well, training and teaching, and no doubt ready to extract them from trouble. You will never get inside. Happily, the slaves are held outside.”

  I stared at the place. There was a moat and an earth wall topped by wooden walls. There were gates and towers, and it looked like designed to kill hopes of any conqueror. They all had names—agger, fossa, vallum—and the entire thing was a castra, but I had no idea of it then.

  “Why is it here?” I asked. “They are an army of men. Roman men!”

  She smiled. “They are not legionnaires, but they are deadly and well trained. You will see. Trust me, you have never seen a sight like those men in battle.” She clenched her fist. “There. You have seen them now. If my daughters—”

  I grasped her arm and turned her around. Her blue, deadly eyes gleamed as she watched me.

  “I …” I began and cursed. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what he was like. But then again, I don’t want to lose. I don’t like losing. I hate it. I don’t want to die, either. I have been losing for a long time and only barely survived.”

  “My daughters,” she said simply. “if they die, you will die.”

  I leaned closer to her. “I give you an oath. If they die… I…” I held my head.

  “I gave you mine,” she said. “Now, are you happy? Akkas will die, but you see your enemies are hard to reach.”

  “Tell me about this place,” I said. “A man said I could find some answers here. Some answers that I want to find out.”

  She sneered. “It’s all about you again. I will betray my oaths for my girls. Do not ask me for more.”

  I pointed my finger below. “If Akkas is a cowardly fool, and Red Raven is undependable,” I asked, “how will they hope to keep this land under control? They are going to take over?”

  “Their troops and forts are far,” she said. “They have Illyria, but Pannonia is still filled with rebels. They need the trade, and these men are here for a purpose. They will likely just make sure Akkas succeeds.”

  She was silent after that. She looked bothered.

  She was lying.

  And she wasn’t about to tell me a thing.

  I was looking down below and felt despair churning in my belly. I was stuck in this devilish trap I couldn’t escape from. To go down would be almost certain death.

  Then, I saw a man moving on a path we had been on. He rode it for the fort and saluted some guards we had not noticed. Then, the man continued his way, guiding his horse to the cleared land around the castra. Suddenly, he bent over and held his face. He turned his horse around and rode for the stream’s edge. There, in the light of Mani, the man was vomiting into the stream.

  It was Marcus.

  “We should leave, then,” Tamura said. “I must go. I have some thinking to do and plans to make.”

  I shrugged. “No.”

  “No?” she snarled, and groped for a sword she didn’t have.

  “No,” I said. “I am sorry, but you are not going anywhere before we are done here. I know you are lying, or leaving things unsaid, and I feel I need to know what they are.”

  “You—”

  I nodded. Ingulf moved, and I did as well. We dragged her down, gagged and tied her up, and left her bound to a strong root. She was breathing hard, and her eyes were smoldering pits of Helheim. I squatted near her. “I keep my oaths. But first, I want to know what they are really doing here, and what you are not telling me. So, I will go find my enemy, and I’ll fetch a man, and we shall have a talk. Wait here and don’t make noise.”

  Ingulf and I moved down the hill.

  CHAPTER 10

  Marcus was sick and drunk. Even his horse looked embarrassed for him, hanging his head forlornly. The Roman was holding his belly, swaying on a rock, and looking up at the castra walls. He seemed in no hurry to get back to wherever it was he slept or worked.

  We squatted at the edge of the woods and watched the slave pens by the river. There were many, and all were filled. There were over two hundred there, and they were so full, one couldn’t easily lay down, and if one did, it was a more powerful man than the others who could. There were people weeping, groaning, coughing, and a smell of death wafted up to us. Wagons, some obviously used to transport them from the Wolf Field, and larger ones, with chains and bars, littered the stream’s edge. Guards, swathed in cloaks and wearing bronze helmets, stood in the light of Mani and spoke softly together. There were many, more than a dozen.

  I moved forward, and Ingulf grasped me. He held a finger over his mouth.

  I turned my head.

  On the edge of the wood, a guard was walking. He was looking at the woods and then longingly at the fort, likely dreaming of sleep. He had a tall spear, bronze helmet, and ring mail gleamed under his cloak. He had a trimmed beard and no jewelry, torcs, or bracelets. His shield was round and had markings on it, like those Marcus had had on his tablets. There was also a creature with eagle wings and a beast’s head painted on it. He had an odd belt with studded straps guarding his groin, and those sandals the Sarmatian had mentioned were churning up the field under him. He looked martial, dangerously disciplined. He also had a short sword and dagger on belts slung over his shoulders.

  He walked past us.

  Ingulf moved.

  He pulled the man back, his hand over the soldier’s mouth.

  He turned and slammed the man against a tree. The helmeted skull made a loud, banging noise, and we froze. We waited and stood still, until Ingulf took a ragged breath, and I followed suit.

  He then proceeded to strip the man. He took the sword and the dagger, the cloak, and the helmet and thrust them my way. I grasped them and looked at him as he was nodding at me. “Well, you wanted a word with Marcus. You go and have it.”

  I cursed, and he helped me, until I finally looked like a scruffy, mud-spattered twin of the solider who had stopped breathing. I turned to him. He nodded. I nodded back and took steps away, walking awkwardly in the sandals.

  “Wait here. I’ll be right back,” I said.

  He nodded and snorted. I slipped to the night and walked briskly for the river’s edge. I spotted Marcus was still sitting down, but now with a flask of leather, and he was drinking from it, unhappy. I saw guards walking the walls of the fort, calling out in odd language, and I ignored two that were walking the perimeter of the fort. One called out, and I lifted the spear. I walked on and waited for someone to scream a warning, but none was forthcoming. I walked for the slave pens and then turned left.

  I went for Marcus.

  He was singing in a melancholic way, and quite poorly. He was drunk as a widow in a funeral, and unhappy to boot. I walked for him, and he glanced my way. He spoke. “Recedo! Puer canem.”

  I stood there and didn’t move.

  He sighed and rubbed his neck and face. He gave me an annoyed glance and then looked away.

  And back.

  He looked at my face, frowning.

  I promptly kicked him in the face and fell over him. I smashed my fist into the already bleeding face, and he went still.

  Then, I heard the guards again.

  Two were walking on the bank and st
opped to look at me. I hesitated and picked up Marcus by the tunic. I grinned up at the men, sure they’d not see my face, picked up a flask, and shook it at them.

  They didn’t move.

  I dragged Marcus to the water’s edge and proceeded to sprinkle water on his face.

  He groaned. I put down my spear, waved at the men, picked him up, and slung him over my shoulder with great difficulty, the shield banging into his head. I began walking for the fort. They turned, laughed, and ambled away.

  I sweated as I passed them, for Marcus began waking up.

  I walked for the gates, and then, when the guards were gone, I turned for the woods.

  “Lucky,” I whispered. “I am lucky. I am lucky, and Lok is watching.” I gave one final look for the slave pens, sure the shit and Erse were there, and then walked away with Marcus, and none knew the better. I dodged through the woods, tall patches of blueberries, and stepped concealing trees. I looked around, spotted Ingulf nearby, and walked for him.

  “You mad shit,” he hissed. “You damned fool.”

  “Where’s the corpse?” I asked.

  “Here, I am hiding it under the bushes,” he cursed as he stumbled.

  “Drag him out,” I told him. “He has a one final duty to perform.”

  “You damned, mad fool,” he cursed, and pulled the corpse out, spitting and shaking his head.

  I dropped Marcus next to the man and slapped him hard. I shook him and slapped him again, and he nearly sprung all the way to his feet, his eyes full of terror, the sort when you wake up suddenly in an odd place and try to find something familiar to feel safe.

  He wasn’t safe. It wasn’t going to be like that.

  He tried to escape. He opened his mouth to scream.

  I put a hand over his mouth and slapped him again. He howled under my hand and struggled, and I punched him hard in the gut. He vomited, and I let go of his mouth and cursed at the bile that smeared my hands and feet, and finally, when he seemed well-emptied, he looked up with some sense in the eyes.

  He saw me, frowned, and then tried to get up.