Chariovalda disappeared and rode to the woods.
We waited.
Finally, we saw a man riding forward.
He was grimy and looked like a ruffian or a highway robber. He wore a red tunic and, over it, a cloak, and obviously, the man had been sleeping with his troops and likely had been eating what they ate. His face was hidden under a hood, and his arms were gnarled and stained with ink and mud. He wore a practical sword, and his caligae were well used.
A thronging troop of praetorians had been following him, and they spread left and right as he lifted his hand.
He rode forward and looked at me, then at Adalwulf. His jaw and half his face could be seen. The jaw was powerful and suited his erect pose perfectly, and the twist of his mouth was full of curiosity and intelligence.
He was the lord who had decided he would, after all, rule the land for his son, Drusus the Younger, to regain the woman he had been forced to divorce. I had spoken the words to him in Rhodes. I had laid out mine and Adalwulf’s plans for him.
He, one of the most intelligent men in Midgard, had struggled. He had fought me. He had claimed to have no such ambitions.
He might have changed.
Perhaps now he did. But, of course, he had long thought about his place in Rome, and when we came to him and agreed to help him, he had agreed.
He did it for his son. His family would suffer in a world ruled by the grandsons of Augustus. They would always be a threat to men like Germanicus. We had killed Lucius and Gaius for him. We would, Germanicus.
All for our sons.
And perhaps, just perhaps, he would start to love power. He would punish those he hated, and he would make Rome his image when Augustus finally died.
Rome would not enjoy any of it.
He pushed his hood back, and I saw his eyes.
They were cold as the ice of the deepest wintery rivers. No emotion, no mercy could be seen there. The man had suggested I work with Armin to raise a great nation in the north, a nation that could fight and destroy Germanicus for him, and I had no good news for him, and he knew it.
The death of Varus had been accomplished.
Rome was watching. It was ready for war.
Germani?
Not so much.
He spoke, his voice tired. “Hraban.”
I kneeled before him. “Lord.”
He flinched. He always flinched when shown reverence, as if the act embarrassed him, shamed him in some mysterious way. He was not comfortable with his rank. And yet, he had accepted it, finally.
“Get up,” he snarled. “If there is someone watching, despite all my precautions and guard, they will plant a javelin in my skull, you idiot.”
I smiled tiredly. “Yes, lord.” I got up, and he eyed my swords.
“They have been idle,” he stated. “Far too much so.”
My swords. Armin’s Summer Sword, stolen from Varus. All true.
I nodded. “There was great victory,” I said. “There are thousands of men dressed in Roman armor,” I told him. “Roman swords, daggers, and glory can be seen in any Thing of the people. The standards are paraded. Armin is a revered hero, as are many other adelings. Armin has their ear. But they still do not follow him. Not fully.”
“He has made very little trouble since Alisio fell,” Tiberius said accusingly. “Rome won’t forget what he did, but he has made no incursions over the river. Does he think we are in peace?”
“He has not made war, lord,” I told him. “And we cannot aid him well. He has an issue with—”
He swatted at a fly and snarled. “Augustus is going to die soon.”
I watched him, and his face.
He spoke on. “Mother—”
I balled my fists.
He smiled coldly. “Whom you shall see die, as agreed,” he went on. “Mother thinks he has just year or two. Then, I shall rule. I shall be the new Augustus, the Princeps. I shall hold Augustus’s extraordinary powers, the senate shall bestow upon me new powers, and at the same time?” He shook his head. “They all look at him.”
Him.
Germanicus.
I spoke bitterly. “I, too, am watching for him. He is not here.”
He looked sourer than usual. “He shall be here early next year,” Tiberius said softly. “I shall leave the north for good. Augustus is giving him, before he dies, the command of Gaul. Germanicus shall be the governor of Gaul, and he shall be your bane. I told you this is the way it shall be. He shall have the command of eight legions, twenty auxiliary cohorts, the coin and taxes of a third of the lands of Rome, and he is here to reignite the dreams of Rome. He shall make war on you, until Armin is dead, and all the standards and the eagles returned.” He went silent. “Is it true the centurions and the tribunes were tortured to death?”
I nodded. “They were taken to the shrines in the woods. There, they were boiled to death. The vitka and the völva took their lives slowly and gave them to the gods as gifts.”
He looked sad and shook his head. “It is a shame. They were good men. I knew many of them.”
I cheered him up. “The civilians, like the attorneys and tax men, they were not given to the gods. Woden would have no use for them. They sewed their lips together and said, ‘Thou shall not hiss ever again, serpent.’”
He laughed coldly. “I must remember that. I must. That is something I would love to do to some of the senators and sycophants in Palatine. Alas, I cannot do it to Mother, nor to Augustus. I have adopted Germanicus.”
I watched him carefully. “Congratulations.”
He looked sour at my levity. “He will rule after me. Not my son. And I have no doubt he shall not wait I am dead of old age. That I cannot have. So, you must kill my dear adopted son,” he told me plainly. “You must kill him. It must be done. If you fail to kill him, shame him. Kill so many men, he cannot survive it. Kill the soldiers, the tribunes, and take legion eagles, until someone sees his failure. He has to be a fool, a failure in the eyes of Rome. Then, I suppose we will find a way to kill him later and survive the political turmoil. It should not be Roman who kills him, for that would make them all suspicious of me, the people. It should be here. If elsewhere?” He shook his head. “I shall not be happy. You are tied to the task, you two. Your sons and wives…” He cursed softly as he saw my face. “Shall be high Romans and even senators one day, and under my and Drusus’s protection. But first, you have summers of pain ahead. He shall bring the legions here, perhaps next year, perhaps the following, and he shall try to tread on my brother’s footsteps. Can you stop him?”
I was silent.
He shook his heavy head and ground his teeth together. “Can you not? Is not Armin now the greatest hero in the north?”
I shook my head. “Hero he might be, but he is not a king. He is a Thiuda with a fabulous story to tell.”
“A Thiuda, but not a king,” Tiberius said softly, and turned to Adalwulf. “Tell me, friend, why does this matter?”
He and Adalwulf had a long history together, far longer than he had with me.
Adalwulf shrugged. “He has no absolute power over anyone. That is the way of the Germani. Everyone is free. Everyone has rights. He can speak with great authority to the werhmen, to the adelings, to the families, and if there is war, he is the Thiuda of the Cherusci and can coax them to war. It is impossible to make them work together. It is impossible to make the adelings see the war as something that should be on top of all their other agendas. On each Thing since Varus, he has tried to find a force of allied nations to cross the river, and to attack Xanten’s area. Last year, during Valpurgis, he tried to gather tens of thousands of warriors to his banner. He spoke of Varus, and of the war that would follow, and men listened.”
Adalwulf said nothing more.
I spoke as Tiberius looked at me. “He failed. They told him the war is over. Why make it worse? They enjoy the past victories, and fear the loss of their freedoms, and they fear the next war, the battles that will bleed them. They fear to take up the
sword again.”
“Cowards,” he hissed.
“Their hearts are slow to burn bright,” Adalwulf said. “They are no cowards, but they are proud and cautious. Armin the Hero. They sing songs of him, of the losses of Varus, of the heroes of that battle, the deeds of those days, but they don’t see the cause.”
“Cause,” he said. “We are at war!”
“The cause is Armin’s. Not theirs. The right of the Cherusci to lead them in war is not clear to them,” I added. “They don’t understand Armin. They see a won war and scoff at his words of an ever-stronger union. And it is partly due to Segestes.”
He slammed his hand on the table. “He has been writing to Rome. Claims he is honest, loyal, and still has the ear of many men. He asks us for help. Why is he alive?”
Adalwulf waved his hand towards east, where the Cherusci lived. “Alfin, Chlodulf, and Baggi. They are high adelings of the Cherusci. They are of the old blood and have served Segestes for years. They fought Varus, but Segestes turned up alive. Now, they have thousands of men, and in each Thing, Segestes pretends to rule the land with wisdom, where Armin is leading it to its death.”
“But Segestes is known to be our puppet!” Tiberius roared. “Everyone knows it! Do not your people know it? Are they stupid enough to believe in simple lies and flattery? What does Inguiomerus say?”
I spat and cursed softly. “They listen to Segestes, because he is Segestes. He is of the ruling blood. His words are lies, but many want to believe in lies and flattery.” I nodded down at the legions. “He tells men many things. He sees your excursions in the lands of Luppia and points out they do not threaten anyone. You barely threaten the Bructeri. Cherusci see no reason to march this way now. Inguiomerus in the east, the lord of that great gau, doesn’t even show up in the Thing. He commands fifteen thousand men over there and is still at war with the Semnones. He fears Armin, for the death of Sigimer left Armin in charge of Sigimer’s gau, and a man so young cannot be anything but a threat to his old fame. Men chose Armin as Thiuda when Inguiomerus was not there, and now he can still claim to be a power in the land, if he never sits in the Thing. He is not willing to bow to Armin.”
Tiberius rubbed his face. “What of the Chatti? The Marsi, Bructeri, Tubantes, Ampsivarii, Chauci, and the others? Tencteri and the Usipetes?”
I waved my hand around. “The Marsi and Bructeri follow him. Mallovendus of the Marsi will go with Armin anywhere. Bructeri will as well, with Helm. The Chauci, the mightiest tribe north of here, have been showing signs of following Armin. Chatti?”
I shrugged.
Adalwulf spoke for me. “They fear Armin’s ambition. They will not let him lead their men. Adgandestrius is willing to go to war for Armin. He was there with the Chatti to kill Varus. His more powerful relatives are cautious. Arpus hesitates. They feel what was done was enough. They certainly won’t serve Armin as their Thiuda. But they mostly see Segestes as the problem. Armin cannot lead when Segestes is tearing his own people in half.”
He sighed. “Tell me about it. What is Segestes doing? He is writing to us, and he is saying what exactly to your people?”
“He has influence,” I said thinly. “The richest Cherusci, and the man who nearly stopped the Varian disaster, Segestes the Fat, Armin’s uncle, survived his son Segimundus’s sword. While Segimundus is Armin’s ally now, his father is not. He still holds sway over third of the Cherusci. The day…” I swallowed my anger and thought back on the day when the tribes met after the taking of Alisio. “Armin was here, not too far from this spot. He and his chiefs, even most of those who had served Segestes, were following Segimundus for Armin. They had thirty thousand Cherusci, and equal number of others who would follow a united force against Xanten. The Germani have no siege knowledge, of course, but they have their bravery. Armin was standing amid his men, in sight of the newly captured legionnaires of Cedicius, and surrounded by Roman wagons and loot, and he was trying to make everyone forget the losses Cedicius’s men inflicted on them.”
“Hundreds,” Tiberius said with some smugness.
“Aye,” I agreed. “It was a true mess the taking of Alisio. Hundreds. And he was close to success. Segimundus followed him. The chiefs and families that had followed Segestes obeyed Segimundus. And that’s when Segestes rode to the camp and the Thing.”
Adalwulf spat with rage.
I spoke, my voice thin. “We couldn’t believe our eyes. Segimundus gasped. Segestes came and proclaimed himself the victor over Varus. He came to the camp, a wounded hero, and called for his own men to give him his due of the loot and to bow before him. Segimundus, he disowned, Armin, he blamed for a murder attempt and cursed the man before the assembly for crime against his daughter. You see, Armin had married his daughter, Thusnelda a day before. Thusnelda, Segestes’s daughter, had gone to Armin’s bed, and there was no dowry paid, no feast to celebrate the marriage, and most of all, no approval from the father. Segestes called a feud on Armin. He blamed Armin of stealing his plan to kill Varus.”
“He did that?” Tiberius asked. “He is a coward, but I suppose he risked his neck with that bit of treason.”
I nodded. “He did. He smeared Armin’s victory. In short, the bastard led almost half of Armin’s army out of the camp, back home, and has been feuding with Armin ever since. He awaits his dowry, acts like he led the Cherusci to war against Varus, and claims Segimundus was Armin’s assassin, as were Adalwulf and I, to mask his glory and his finest plan to bring down Rome.”
We were silent.
He shifted in his saddle. “He writes to us, I said. And still, he won’t obey our commands. He cannot be trusted with our plans, and he won’t leave the land. And the other adelings are reluctant to follow Armin who has neither Inguiomerus or Segestes on his side?”
I nodded.
“Then Segestes must be killed,” he snarled.
“That will divide the people,” I answered.
“Still, he must be used or pushed aside,” he said.
I sighed. “And if it is done, Armin is still challenged by adelings who shall reel under Roman promises. He faces a daunting task of making the nations a force that understands their freedom is being threatened, their very ways of life. Varus did that with his harsh laws and theft, but they have forgotten. It is a harsh road for Armin.”
“Can you not help?” he asked. “Do you have any idea how to make Armin strong?”
I hesitated. I had one. I nodded. “It is complicated. It is foul.”
He smiled. “Sounds good to me. Where is Segestes?” Tiberius asked.
Adalwulf spoke. “In a burg. A fortress on a hill. It is not all bad. Segimundus, son of Segestes has been working hard for Armin. Segestes has lost many men to Armin over the past year because of Segimundus, but very slowly. He has a small hill filled with houses and timber walls, and thousands still follow him, believing in his many lies. Armin is ill-prepared to lead anyone anywhere, as long as enemy sits in the middle of his own nest. They are actually in an open war. Segestes dares not leave the burg, unless for a Thing. They are not fighting, but Armin has him surrounded. So. The adelings do not see a cause, they don’t want Armin to rule over them permanently, and Chatti especially want to command their own men. And Segestes and Inguiomerus are making Armin too weak to be intimidating. That is Germania for you.”
Tiberius was rubbing a horn on his saddle, as if offended by mud stains, and he was thinking. “And your father? What of our Maroboodus? Who shall he join? He should join us for his son is in Ravenna, and Gunhild as well. And still he seems aloof to me these days. He says he obeys my commands, and enjoys his kingdom and amber, but is he really at peace?”
I shook my head. “He is not—”
“I hear things,” he said. “He is acting like a friend and is asking politely for his family, and I have promised him all our good will and his family, but not yet. He tells everyone Gunhild is visiting his family to keep his son safe and keeps it a secret he has been betrayed. I hear he is reaching out to t
he tribes in the north, and I fear he might contemplate on risking my wrath. He might forget his own family, he might even join Germanicus. He is certainly after your hide.”
I said nothing. It was possible.
“Find out what you can,” he said. “Find men who can guard you and Armin and keep an eye on that land. Try to find out what your father plans. As for Segestes? He must die,” he said simply. “He must not stop Armin from fighting Germanicus. Will you kill him? And will you try this foul plan of yours?”
I shrugged. “I can try. I am more than happy to. We have tried to nail the fat bastard for years. But he is well fortified, as I said. I will have to think about the plan I mentioned. I need some time. I need to—”
“Sharpen up and start doing what we agreed on,” he chided me gently. “Well do I know the sorrows of the heart, and what loss can do to a man. You must be the Hraban I know you are. There are still causes worth following. Rome waits for you. It can be a better Rome you once knew. And your son Gervas, and yours, Adalwulf? They need not die here in Germania but can live in glory in Rome. Your lands shall live on, and you have duties to perform. In Rome. I will make Rome a land of law and justice again. I will pardon those who have done it ill. You will see.”
We listened to his words and bowed.
Tiberius was nodding and shaking his head at the same time. “You have this winter to plan. Next year, if things go well, Germanicus will be here, spoiling for a fight.”
“He shall find Germania like Varus found it,” Adalwulf said. “Inhospitable. He shall not love it.”
Tiberius tilted his head. “Do not underestimate him. He is an odd creature, indeed. He shares a love for men and women alike, and is a bitter, evil, greedy shit, but he is the son of my brother, and a relative of mine. He is of the blood of Augustus, and he, despite his flaws as a man and a human being, personifies many of the best soldier’s qualities.” He shifted in his saddle and looked unhappy. “Sejanus thinks he will do well in war. And if you want to know where the Germani guard called Ulrich is? Only Germanicus would know this. If we never find Ulrich, Hraban, we must first defeat Germanicus. Do not spare him to learn of Ulrich. Do not try. Your son is more important. Remember what your duty is. Make sure Armin succeeds in killing him and his legions. Make sure Armin takes him seriously. You take him seriously as well. It will be a terrible war, and he is no fool. He has eight legions, Hraban. That is five more than you just barely managed to surprise. There will be traitors in your ranks to give you nasty surprises. He is already finding men to ride the land and scout.”
The Summer Sword Page 4