No sooner than he was seated, a girl brought Conan a [*assive, pitch-coated wooden tankard of ale. This he aaed in one long pull and slammed down upon the , to be refilled almost instantly. Platters of smok-; joints were laid down, and for some time there was speech as the famished trenchermen made up for time spent on marching rations, hen appetites were somewhat sated, the men fell to of their prowess in that day's battle. Each his own feats and praised what he had wit-of his companions' fighting. Every man was in praising Conan's contribution to the battle, none went so far as to suggest that they might : been annihilated except for Conan's timely arrival. tes turn Conan arose and praised his hosts, now
his comrades-in-arms. He explained some fine points concerning his defeat of the late Agilulf, which his listeners followed closely with the interest of professionals hearing the words of a master. Never overbur-dened with modesty, Conan did not underappraise his effectiveness in the subsequent fighting. He ended with compliments for his new employer and companions, proclaiming his eagerness to fight their enemies. There was loud applause and much thunking of tankards when he resumed his seat.
Finally Alcuina rose and, after the northern custom, lavishly praised her men and distributed gifts among them. Her words of praise for Conan were, he thought, rather sparing when one considered his signal contribu-tions to her defense. He could not fault her generosity in material things, however. His own gift was a massy arm-ring studded with coral and garnets. Its weight in gold alone would have been considered a year's wages for a skilled swordsman in southern lands. Conan slipped the ring above the thick muscle of his right arm and thanked Alcuina courteously. She seemed to take no notice.
As the torches were being taken down, Alcuina announced that the rites for the dead were to be held upon the next eve, as the sun set. All then prepared for sleep. Alcuina disappeared behind the arras that screened off the end of the hall, and her wizard went to seek out the little building where he performed his sorcerous duties. Everyone else slept in the straw, wrapped in their cloaks.
Conan did not feel ready for sleep yet. Taking a fresh tankard of hot, spiced ale, he went outside, not knowing the source of his unease. The yard was quiet, with all the folk abed and the fowl roosting in their sheds.
Only a dog roamed about, doubtless hoping for a late handout from the feast.
The Cimmerian caught sight of a glow coming from the wall above the gate. He crossed the yard and found a stair made of split logs ascending to the top of the stone wall, thence to the wooden platform that ran around the palisade built atop the wall. Over the gate he found a single sentry standing next to a glowing brazier. In the fire's glow he recognized the man as one of his companions from the fighting earlier in the day.
"Greeting, Hagbard," Conan called. "This is a cold night for such duty."
Hagbard drew his cloak more closely about him. "Colder than it should be, Conan."
Indeed, the temperature had dropped considerably since Conan had entered the hall. He handed the tankard to Hagbard, and the man drank the warm ale gratefully. "The frost giants march south early this year," the Cimmerian said.
Hagbard handed back the tankard. "Thanks, friend. Yes. this is the sign of a bad winter. If the cold creases much more, we'll not be able to bury our dead tomorrow."
"Do you never burn them?"
"Never. A warrior is buried with his weapons, a raftsman with his instruments, a wife with her distaff anc spindle. That is the custom. Even the children are §» il with their toys, and the thralls with their field If we cannot bury them tomorrow, we shall have build a lich-house without the walls to hold them the ground thaws."
Conan surveyed the bleak and rather uncanny ground nounding the enclosure. Here they were in a broad, pea field, almost a small plain, in strange contrast to
little stone hut where the wizard lived. With a muttered malediction on all dabblers in magic, Conan went into the hall and rousted the snoring Oswin.
Picking his way among the sleeping forms, Conan found his way to the still-glowing hearth, where he was cheered to find a half-full pitcher of ale still warming by the coals. He poured some into his tankard and drank deep. He wondered whether he had made the right choice in joining Alcuina's band. An air of doom overhung these stark stone ruins. However, he had accepted her gold and her food and her roof, so he would accept whatever might befall. It was not his custom to worry about the future. He found his sleeping-place, rolled himself into his cloak on the straw, and soon was as deep in sleep as any there.
Chree
Che Bail of Coffla King Totila sat brooding on his high seat. He took no joy in the jeweled cup before him, nor in the singing of the harper who sat upon the hearth. His elbow was propped on a great carven arm of the chair, and his chin rested on a knotty fist on which every finger blazed with the gleam of gold and jewels. He was the wealthi-est of the northern kings, but Totila of the Tormanna brooded upon that which he could not have. Queen Alcuina of the Cambres.
He wanted her fair body in his bed almost as much as be wanted her lands annexed to his. With his eastern flank thus secured, he would be able to swallow up Odoac and his Thungians to the south. Thus would Totila become the greatest king of the North. With such a beginning, he would forge a northern empire such as men had not seen since the last great migration of the northern peoples, many generations before.
In dreams such as this did Totila pass his days, but he was not one to confine himself to dreams. He had
the wooded hills that characterized most of this district. In the bright light of the full moon, Conan could see that the plain was dotted with several of the steep-sided mounds, of which the one upon which he stood was the highest. Several of those had similar stone walls atop them. Out in the flat-ground, many standing stones were arranged in straight lines or circles. Some stood in configurations like doorways, with a great stone laid horizontally across two standing ones.
"How long have you folk lived here?" Conan asked. He touched one of the palisade logs, and his hand came away sticky with sap.
"Only since midsummer. We had been living in the old place for ten years, and the fields were worn out. The game was getting scarce as well, and the fish were few in the streams. It was decided that we should move."
Most northern peoples were seminomadic at best. There had been times when entire nations had simply picked up their belongings and migrated for no better purpose than a change of scenery. Great wars often resulted. The most common reason, however, was the simple wearing out of land settled too long by people whose agricultural practices were primitive in the extreme.
Hagbard shook his head. "I wish Alcuina had not picked this place, though. Better we had stayed to the hills and forests."
"I can see why you do not like it," Conan said, sipping at the rapidly-cooling ale. "It is uncanny, with all those mounds and stone circles. Why did she pick mis place?"
"She deems we can better defend ourselves here, behind these giant-wrought walls. I speak no disloyalty," the man said hastily, "but Alcuina is not the
leader her father, Hildric, used to be. He knew the way to deal with enemies was to kill them, not hide behind walls of stone."
"What kind of place is this?" Conan asked, sweep-ing an arm to take in the uncanny plain.
"Long ago," Hagbard said, "even before my grandfather was born, giants lived in this place. It was their stronghold. They fought a war with the gods for many generations, with neither side having the victory. Then the giants hired dwarfs to build them a great wall engirdling this whole plain. The fee claimed by the dwarf master mason was the daughter of the king of the giants. The wall was built, and the wedding was held. But"by now Hagbard's breath was steaming heavily with the cold"on her wedding night, the bride murdered the groom, as what princess would not, given so inadequate a husband? In a single night, the dwarfs tore down the wall and the gods stormed in and slew all the giants, who were still besotted from their feasting. These ruins are all that is left of that ancient slaughter, but I
think the spirits of the slain giants linger here still."
Conan pulled his cloak closer around him. The mulled ale was gone, and he was beginning to feel the effects of all the food and drink he had taken on that night. "Well, restless or not, they are dead now," Conan commented. "Good night, friend. I think it is time to seek my bed in the straw."
"Good night, Conan. Would you wake my relief? It is Oswin, who sleeps nearest the door tonight."
Conan assured Hagbard that he would not sleep until Oswin was awake and headed out into the cold. He descended the stair to the courtyard. As he crossed to the hall he noticed a light burning and wondered who stirred so late. Then he saw that the light came from the r
begun as little more than a robber-chieftain, with only the most tenuous claim to royal blood. By dint of iron will and unrelenting savagery he had forged a small but solid kingdom. Fighting men he had in plenty, and what swords could not do would be handled by the man who sat at Totila's right hand: the wizard lilma.
Years ago the man had come to Totila, claiming to be from Hyperborea and claiming as well that the destinies of king and wizard were intertwined. Totila would furnish him with protection, and lilma would strike at those enemies Totila's swords could not reach. The wizard had been as good as his word, and the two had grown fat together, waxing in power and wealth. Totila never stayed content for long, though, and each victory, each kinglet swallowed up, caused his appetite to grow along with his power.
"I would know how it fares with Alcuina, wizard," said the king. Below him, on benches at the long tables, his warriors ate and drank, their mood subdued in recognition of their lord's brooding spirits.
"As my lord wishes," lilma said. "I shall go and prepare the pool. My messengers have told me"he waved toward a pair of large magpies that perched on the back of his chair"that she returns to her hall this day, after touring her lands."
The white-bearded man arose. The skins of reindeer draped him, and the antlers of that beast crowned his headdress. Bones and skulls of small animals rattled on strings about him, and the feathers, claws, and beaks of many birds adorned his crude garments. He took his curiously-wrought staff from its place by the chair and walked rattling from the room. The magpies hopped after him, and conversations stilled as he passed. All men feared the wizard almost as much as they feared the king.
Totila sat for a while in desultory conversation with his counselors, but his mind was elsewhere. In time, he took his helmet from atop the comerpost of his chair. It was the most famous helmet in the realm, and he wore it even when no battle portended, in lieu of a crown. It was of bronze plated with gold and silver, and its hook-beaked nasal was flanked by a pair of lowering silver eyebrows. Long cheek pieces framed his face, and strips of silvered bronze wrought in the semblance of feathers dangled behind to protect his neck. Em-bossed upon plates of silver, a file of warriors encircled me crown, and above all brooded the fierce eagle-crest, its eyes glaring feral hate, beak agape for prey.
With the helmet settled upon his head, Totila donned hb cloak. It hung from his huge shoulders to drag on fe ground, its colors curiously piebald. This cloak was atirely made of the scalps of men Totila had slain with his own hand, and not one of them lower in rank than cfakf or champion. He picked up his great sword and carried it by the sheath as he strode from the hall. Crown and scepter meant nothing in the North. Helmet, doak. and sword spelled kingship in runes the savage OTtherners could read.
King Totila's hall was encircled by no wall or pali-ode It was his boast that he feared no king enough to rther with such defenses. His warriors were wall enough far him, he claimed. He strode past the tilled fields his thralls toiled away their lives to raise the for the free men's bread and ale. Grain was practically the only crop grown in the North. For the a of their food, they depended upon their livestock, e beasts of the forest, and the fish in their streams. A
race of meat eaters, the northerners despised free men who would work upon the land as men did in the South, and taste meat only once or twice in a year.
Taking a little-used forest path, Totila soon reached a small grove, which was warm despite the surrounding cold. The wizard lilma wielded great power over the forces of nature. In the midst of the grove was a small pool, fed by no visible stream, and from which no stream flowed. It never froze, no matter how bitter the weather beyond the grove. lilma stood by the pond with a magpie perched upon each shoulder. Totila placed himself by the wizard.
"This is what took place earlier in this day," intoned the mage. He touched the surface of the stream with his staff, and a bright picture appeared with the widening ripples.
Totila watched with absorption. He was now used to these magical displays, although he had been frightened when first he saw one. Gazing down into the pool he saw a file of men marching through a snowy forest, seen from above as if by a flying bird. Ahead of the marching men were other men, more numerous, lying in ambush. His eyes narrowed as the viewpoint lowered, as if the watching bird were descending to a convenient tree the better to see the coming entertainment.
"Those are Alcuina's men," Totila muttered, "and she among them. Odoac's warriors lie in wait. Had I known she would be traveling away from home, it would have been my own men there to take her." He looked at lilma. "Why did you not inform me that she would be thus vulnerable?" He did not speak angrily, although he felt much anger. He did not dare offend the wizard, even though he lose a queen. Totila possessed a capacity to hide his feelings far in excess of the control owned by most northern kings.
"This journey was hidden from me until this day, my lord. I suspect that the wizard Rerin, whom you see riding beside the queen, erected a screen to foil my farseeing eyes on wings."
Totila snorted noncommittally, unsure how seriously to take the wizard's protestations. "Now they spring the trap!" he said. He watched excitedly as Alcuina's men were surrounded, forming a shield-wall around their queen and preparing to sell their lives at bitter cost. "They cannot protect her long," Totila observed as the snow reddened. "That means I must take her from Odoac." He gnawed at a nail in annoyance. "But what if he gets her with child before I kill him? This is an ill business, wizard."
"Watch what happens now," the wizard said. As suddenly as it had started, the fighting ceased. Now the viewpoint changed, as if the bird were swiveling its bead. A single man stood on a hillside, and he looked to be shouting, although they could hear nothing.
"What is this?" Totila wondered. "A youth? Nay, that is a grown warrior, though beardless. What breed is be?"
"From his look," lilma said, "a Cimmerian. They ire a race my nation knows to its cost. They come from mountain country to the west of Hyperborea. Their god is called Crom, and they have no skill of magic, although they are matchless fighters."
"My own men are matchless fighters," Totila grumbled, "and I the most matchless among them. What does such a one here?"
"Observe this. It is most interesting." They watched one of Odoac's men come to meet the stranger.
"A challenge fight!" Totila said happily. "That is Agilulf, Odoac's champion. He's a fine swordsman but a loudmouth withal." They saw the first exchange played out. "Good fighting on both parts," Totila said judiciously. "Now they have each other's measure. The next clash must tell the tale." They watched the bewildering flurry of blows, and Totila slapped his thigh in delight. "You spoke true words, wizard! That one is a warrior of rare skill."
The rest of the combat was played out for their enjoyment; then they saw the bodies loaded and watched as the stranger mounted and rode off with Alcuina's escort. Then there was nothing but the stiff forms of Odoac's men, the reddened ground, and the gently falling snow. The picture in the water faded.
"So, Alcuina has a new champion," Totila said, tugging at his beard. "I may just have to try that one myself. It has been many years since I have found a man worthy of my steel. Besides," he mused, looking down at his cloak, "black is the only color missing from my cloak of chiefs' hair. Such a mane as that rog
ue sports will make a collar better than a wolf's winter coat."
"With that brute among her guard," lilma said, "Alcuina will be more difficult than ever to possess. Why do you not forget her for the moment and move against Odoac? He lost many men this day and is weaker than ever."
Totila thought for a moment. "No, it is as have told you before, wizard. When I move south, it shall be in a great push that shall take me to the borders of Zamon and Turan. shall swallow up Odoac and his tribe like a fish snapping up an insect upon the water."
lilma knew that these dreams far exceeded even the
abilities of a man like Totila. The North simply did not contain enough men to hold so much territory for more than a few years. Still, he wanted to make Totila the greatest king of the North. That much he could assure. "If my lord wishes, I have command of certain spells. They are spells that will make use of allies I can cause to do my bidding. My servants are the frost giants of the North, and the dead who lie stiff beneath the snows."
"I care not how you go about it," Totila said, not wanting to hear more. "Just see to it. If you pave the way for me to take that woman and make her my queen, I'll reward you well, as always."
"So my lord shall," lilma said. "Now, return to the hill and feast with your warriors. I shall be busy here Ac rest of the night and tomorrow and tomorrow night. Then, we shall see."
Totila left to make his way back to the hall. Behind Mm lilma stirred the waters with his staff and began a , eerie chant. Outside the grove, the weather grew
?our
Battle with the Dead
When morning came, Conan woke as the hall door opened, admitting a cold wind and a near-frozen sentry. The man shut the door and ran to the hearth, where he held blued arms over the warm ashes of last night's fire. Conan rose, wide awake as always when not sod-den with drink. The others in the hall roused from sleep in a more leisurely fashion, groaning and scratching. Indeed, on so cold a morning it was a hard task to rise at all.
The Conan Compendium Page 464
