I watched her carefully. “You want me to lead them?”
She nodded. “It would be important.”
I nodded. “In that case…yes.”
She was sweating, and then she hugged me, trembling.
I let her and embraced her back. She sat there, afraid, plagued by some unknown struggle, and she leaned on me so hard. She was terrified. Armin was so busy. She was lonely. Her warm breath made me uncomfortable. She reminded me of Cassia, her wisdom, bravery, and closeness intoxicating, and I enjoyed her touch a bit too long, the touch of her cheek on mine, her breast pressing into my armor. I lifted my hand to press her away, but my fingers brushed her nipple and stayed there for a moment. I moved the hand across the breast to her face, and she turned, her lips brushing mine. She pressed them into mine, for a moment, and I felt my mind whirling with unexpected lust. She was trembling, and I pulled her closer, and my lips were pressed in hers. Her tongue played in my mouth, and her hand was on my lap, the fingers on my thigh.
She pulled off suddenly, shaking her head, and stepped up.
I looked down and waited. She was breathing hard, and then she placed a hand on my shoulder. “I shall arrange it. Would you lead those men? They are sure to be useful. And such men, as we need.”
I smiled and nodded. “Then I must think of ways for Armin to win this war. Lady, I am sorry. I—”
She shook her head. “Hush. I didn’t stop you. I did more than you. And I am just…lonely. You are right. Confused. Armin is not hurt by…we did nothing. We will not. He is in trouble,” she said. “You are right. He needs help, though he does not ask it of you. He is in great trouble. He is not being obeyed. They say he has no real cause to lead them in war. There is no insult left to avenge. They don’t see his vision of Germania. They just do not. Come to us this evening, and we shall set about solving the issue with Segestes. I shall talk to Segimundus. He shall speak to Armin. Lok loves you Hraban. I hope his love can help us all.”
I smiled, and she left. I sat down and watched my hands.
I knew nothing. I just had a hunch.
I pressed my hands together and thought of my plan. It was evil as the shadow of Lok and it was playing in my head, and the plan was full of uncertainties.
I had enemies. I had to deal with them if I were to succeed. So many things had to be achieved. Armin needed help. He needed the adelings to serve him unconditionally. He needed especially the reluctant Chatti, and more to follow him out of respect and love, if we were to beat Germanicus. The enemy was coming, and the adelings had to be made to see it.
And Maroboodus. He had to be dealt with.
Armin needed a cause. A real cause.
My plan might work.
I needed more information, many willing and unwilling people to make it happen, and I knew it was possible. It would cause deaths by hundreds. Perhaps by thousands. It might also give Armin victory. It might save or doom my Gervas.
I was sure Thusnelda had been right.
Lok loved me.
I got up and found Hild on the doorway. She was hesitating. “I was—”
I looked at her, and then, thinking of Cassia, her ghost haunting my dreams, and of Thusnelda’s touch, I pulled her in.
Later, I asked her to fetch Adalwulf, and he, listening to me speaking, held his face. He nodded, and smiled, agreeing. “One Aquila will not be enough to make a good man of me after this, Hraban. But it must be done. For us. For Armin.”
Then, we went to see Armin.
CHAPTER 3
The hall of Armin, the Black Lodge, was like any. It was not a particularly great hall. It was not grand, or overly well built. It was, however, a hall of impressive proportions, with a gigantic main hall, with pillars of ash and a series of fire pits, and this one, like those of the Celts, had white-washed walls. It was a comfortable hall with pelts, antlers, and weapons hanging on the walls and from the ceiling, and a number of servants kept it uncommonly clean and homely.
Thusnelda turned to look my way and smiled as she always did when she saw me. This time, the smile ended with uncertain look on her face, her lips thin, her eyes downcast.
The awkward moment we had shared, or something else?
She feared me and needed me. I had saved her from rape once. We had freed her from her father during the battle of Varus. We had freed her, and she and Cassia had followed us to the battle. She had been there to see my suffering, and she had carried Cassia off from the last castra with Adalwulf, and I had not seen her body after.
She also knew I had tried to kill him. Armin. I had caused her and Armin much harm.
And I would, again. I would kill Armin if the Romans didn’t. She had her reasons to fear.
“What,” I heard Armin speaking, “are they doing?”
I turned to see him washing. He was bare and rubbing his body with hot water. We all bathe and comb our hair, and take care of our horses in similar manners, but Armin was as much Roman as he was Germani, and missed the hot thermae and balneane in Rome, the bathhouses, and had ordered the building of one in his new village. It wasn’t ready, but he still washed with hot water. His long, blond hair was wet to his back, and his skin gleamed pink as he grasped a cloak, which he swept around him. He turned. His sword, gold-hilted and long, had once belonged to Varus and was near him. The Summer Sword was famous now. It was the symbol of Germani strength. He was rarely unarmed and never in my company. His armor was rich with silver brooches, made of thick steel and bought off a Semnone king, and was hung over a bench.
Horse-Arse and Grip were staring at us from the shadows, and both were dusty. The Matticati guards were his sole surviving men from Roman service, and deserters both. Armed with Roman steel and round shields, both were never asleep, it seemed.
Both disliked me, but they also knew we all shared secrets, and never voiced their opinions.
“They are doing little,” I told him. “They broke the siege.”
“Was to be expected,” Armin said.
I shook my head. “They march along Luppia and restore the forts we burned. They are venturing out to the Bructeri lands and sending cohorts to the Marsi, burning a village here and there, but they find nothing.”
He was nodding as he walked to a bench and leaned on his sword there. “The eagles are well hidden. Marsi and Bructeri are no fools. They don’t parade them around the shrines and villages.”
We had a long history of betrayals between us. As for Adalwulf, he knew what he had been.
“They are doing plenty,” he said tiredly, as Thusnelda brought him wine. “They are doing a lot. They are doing what Tiberius is ever doing. What is Tiberius always doing, Adalwulf?”
“Tiberius is,” Adalwulf said, “preparing the land for war.”
“Preparing the land for war,” Armin agreed and smiled tiredly. “Such a nice way of putting it. He is giving the new legions, his men, a sight of the land. He is showing the new legions the woods are not filled with vaettir and draugr, that there are no demons hopping from branch to branch. Here and there, he shows them a burned village, a murdered family, and while he is doing that, he is preparing Alisio and Castra Flamma, right there at the beginning of Luppia, for war. It has taken him years to do it, old Augustus must be out of breath for screaming for revenge for his friend Varus, but Tiberius is just setting up the game, one piece at a time, chatting amicably over the board with his enemies, nodding at their suggestions, getting to know what kind of players he is facing, and also thinking about how to crush them. He is doing plenty.” He leaned back and sighed. “He is doing far too much. He is making sure the Sigambri are finally out of the war. Who isn’t, has moved in with the Bructeri and Marsi north of the river.”
“Aye,” I said simply. “That’s it, I suppose.”
He emptied the cup and tossed it to the firepit. The clay broke and sprinkled wine in an arch that attracted some dogs that set about snuffling and licking at the spattered bits of clay. “Like them.”
“Eh?” I asked.
“The adelings are like them,” he said. “That’s what. They come when called, but only if there is a feast or attention provided. They come and smell riches and praise, and taste what is offered, but when it is required they act? They go back to their corners. I have no cause to take war to Rome? They want no part in greater alliance! Not while Segestes defies me. Look. There.”
Indeed, the dogs were slinking away from his anger.
“Tiberius sees what we are,” he said. “He sees our weakness. From such energy and victory, to this.”
He waved his hand.
The hall was empty.
Thusnelda sighed. “They are all yours, love. They don’t have to sit in our hall, guzzling ale. They are ready to go to war.”
Armin rubbed his eyes and looked at her. “Tiberius is out there. He is marching in the Marsi lands, and the Bructeri ones. He is stopping us from turning the Sigambri back to war. He is marching about with impunity, and we cannot do anything. Only the Marsi are ready, and my men cannot help them, because of—”
“My father…” Thusnelda said kindly. “It is not your fault. They are all ready to follow you.”
“They are not,” Armin said, and looked at Adalwulf unkindly. “The Chatti hesitate. They always argue. The Chauci as well. We need both. The rest will suffer unspeakable losses of land and cattle and houses when the war really starts. It is not this year?”
“It is not,” I said. “Tiberius has the men, but none carry supplies for a long war. They are simply crisscrossing the land, waiting. You are right. He is preparing the board.”
He was silent.
“As for next year, it shall be Germanicus,” I said. “We found a man or two straggling and spoke to them in a rather demanding way. The legionnaires said they think Germanicus shall command in the north. It is but a rumor, but Augustus is sick, so Tiberius must lead the nation, rather than the war.”
“Dying, finally?” Armin wondered.
“Finally,” I said. “It will change Rome. Tiberius will rule, but people love Germanicus.”
“None love Tiberius,” he said and spoke again. “You rode far west.”
I looked at Horse-Arse. “Since you followed us, you know how far. Or was it you, Grip?”
Grip stepped forward. “Rhenus,” said the man. “You rode to River Rhenus, and then I lost you as you swung back for the siege of Alisio.”
“So, you know how far west,” I told him.
Armin nodded, his eyes glinting. Grip grunted. “West enough. We saw Alisio relieved.”
“Indeed.”
Armin got up and walked back and forth, his sword on his shoulder. “We shall meet the tribes for Yule. They all claim they are ready for war and ready to follow me to a degree next year, and I have been making some preparations. I have, indeed, planned a surprise. Not all of the adelings will like it. Hopefully, Romans least of all. Helm the Bructeri shall be there, as will Mallovendus of the Marsi. Theudric the Sigambri shall come with the Marsi, as will Alberich the Langobardi and Berard the Semnone. The two Suebi tribes are welcome, though they are not joining us. The Chauci, Ernust the Red, will come as well. If he joins us, we shall be powerful. Arpus, the Chatti, and your Adgandestrius shall be there. I hope they shall let me command. I do hope it. It is essential for victory. Sigvaldi the Tubante, Gray Wolf from the Tencteri…so many people.”
“And your uncle?” Adalwulf said.
“Which?” he snarled in return and lifted his hand. “Aye, I know! Neither is going to be there. My uncle from the east is loath to join us for his fame, and the other uncle, the bastard, is going to resist…”
Thusnelda turned her face to me. “We must kill my father.”
“I have done nothing but try,” I rumbled. “As has your brother Segimundus.”
She smiled gratefully. “Indeed. Segimundus has,” she agreed. “And he shall help us. He has an idea. Armin agrees.”
I turned to see the man.
He had hacked his sword into his father once and had ridden with us to rescue Cassia and Thusnelda. The man had been a priest of Augustus Caesar, of the order Drusus had set up in Gaul, and had served his father’s many wishes. He had grown since I had seen him and had put on muscle and gathered scars. He had fought against Varus, valiant by all the accounts, and had been part of our efforts to wound the legates, to kill the standard-bearers. He had stood with Armin and pulled away many of Segestes’s war chiefs to Armin’s, and his own banner, and the young man, I had no doubt, would be standing in the stead of Segestes when all of this was over. He would be the new lord of Segestes’s gau.
He also looked hopelessly timid when something more than simple bravery in battle was needed.
The man’s long hair was brown and golden, and his eyes pale blue, like the sky in a winter morning. His chain hung to his knees, and a great sword was hung around his waist, girted high. He looked like a worthy warlord, if confused.
Armin looked at me. “He shall lead my men. In this ambush. If he and you succeed…” he shrugged.
I shook my head. “What ambush?”
Armin turned to me. “You shall fetch men for yourself. Segimundus know just the right sort. He told me about a party of men. We shall hire them. Then, we shall lure out Segestes. He shall die in an attack he must make, and we shall be the victims. In the end, by Yule, he shall either be disgraced or dead. Segimundus will rule my halls and my men and be the second man in the land. Let Inguiomerus think of that.”
I nodded and smiled at Thusnelda. “It sounds an excellent plan, Armin.”
“Donor and his men shall lead me and Thusnelda on a trip, Segimundus shall tell his father he is willing to betray me, and you and Adalwulf shall be prepared with your men, hiding and ready. He will be unable to resist.”
I smiled at my own words, pouring from his lips.
Segimundus didn’t know my part in the plan and looked proud. He had, perhaps, already forgotten Thusnelda had told him to say these things.
Armin had been happy. He had been happy to find a man who was clever and willing to help, to take his burden, part of it, and one he could trust.
His view of Segimundus had gone high as Sunna herself.
And I? I was just a killer, a war-lord, and it suited me fine.
I closed my eyes and tried to see how my delicate plan would work out. The unknowns in the plan, the luck I needed? It was another huge gamble.
“Donor is with you?” I asked. His men hated and feared me. The man’s relative had been killed by Adalwulf to stop him from running off to loot when we had had a battle to fight. He had sworn revenge.
“He is,” he said. “He is the best tracker and hunter of the land, and his five hundred men are my guard. Many of his war-party know all the lands in Luppia, and here. Segestes expects him to be there.”
I shrugged.
It had been on my orders. I had seen him often, and each time, he had stopped to stare at me.
He was a deadly man. An enemy. One of many. Many of them distrusted me. I was the Oath Breaker, after all. Not all songs about me were kind or praised my victories.
“Cassia will be avenged,” he said. “Many others. Next spring. You will get new men. Less honest men than the ones who left you. I still wonder why they left.”
I tightened my face so as not to show him my anger. Wandal, Tudrus, all of them were gone. They had left and would not come back. They had heard my confessions, the truths to my long list of lies, the fact I had made a deal with Tiberius. Armin knew nothing of that, but he knew my men hated me.
I missed them.
Tudrus would likely be alive, despite his terrible wounds. His daughter, wife, and brother as well. Wandal, I begged, was still alive. He might be with his father, if the old man yet lived.
There was no way of knowing.
“Perhaps they didn’t want to follow you?” I said icily. “You have a love for lies and ruses as well.”
Armin took a long, angry breath. “I dislike such ruses. But I suppose I must accept them.
” He pointed the sword to the general direction of his uncle’s hill. The blade was quivering. “He says I cheated him on dowry. That I stole away a woman and shamed him. He says I spoiled his plan to destroy Rome, and that I failed to even kill him. Inguiomerus won’t join me. What if he joins him? Eh? Nay, Hraban, we have no time for shaming or buffoonery. The man has to die.”
I looked at the man, and he nodded, his face serious.
“What is needed?” I asked. “Where are these men I am supposed to lead? I suppose we shall act soon.”
He nodded towards the door. “Segimundus will tell you all you need to know. We need men. You shall hire them, like the Thracians you had, I suspect. Mercenaries. Not men like ours. From the east. You will find a band of Sarmatians. They will join you, and you alone. Then, very soon, we shall act.”
Sarmatians.
I hated them.
I smiled. “War-lord of non Germani, that is Hraban.”
Armin smiled. “You have no honor, and your fame is tarnished, Hraban. They fear you, they respect your prowess, and we need a man with no scruples whatsoever in this plan of ours. You go and meet the King of the Roxolani. They are nearby, hiding from the Hermanduri. Before that, Segimundus shall tell you the details of the plan.”
He turned to go, and Thusnelda followed him. Horse-Arse and Grip trailed after, and I faced Segimundus.
“Lord?” I asked. “Shall we leave, and when?”
He hesitated.
Adalwulf grunted. “So? Tell us.”
“So,” he said uncertainly, “we must leave in the morning, before light. My father has spies in the camp. He knows every war-chief, and no matter how they feel about him, no ruse shall succeed, if we fail to surprise him.” He put a hand on my shoulder and leaned forward. My hand tightened around Nightbright, and Adalwulf stepped back instinctively. Segimundus frowned and smiled gently, his eyes nervous. “Touchy bastards, are you not?”
“Get on with it,” I told him, and pushed his hand back. “We are listening.”
The Summer Sword Page 6