Borena shrugged. “It was not by choice of mine.” I saw there was pain in her face, and voice. Indeed, she had lost someone. “Who are you, then?”
Gochan ground his teeth together. “Alas, but my sister is having a bad day. She forgets who is the king and why.”
“You were born a moment before I was,” she said, her scar twitching. “Not more.”
“A moment is enough,” he retorted and chewed down some more meat. “What are you offering? Tell me that, after you answer her question.”
Segimundus pointed a finger to the west. “There is a war brewing with Rome.”
“Sounds like a suicide,” Gochan said darkly.
“Varus does not think so,” Adalwulf grunted. “Not anymore.”
Borena glanced back at Alde who shrugged. Borena smiled at Adalwulf. “You are the leader?” she asked.
Segimundus spoke on. “Cherusci Thiuda, Armin, needs your help. I am his man and speak for him. He rules—”
Ourbazo spoke. “He rules part of your land,” the boy said with a soft voice. “He is in war with his uncle, and Inguiomerus ignores him. He is no true Thiuda of Cherusci. Though, of course, he is a hero of great deeds.” He made such heroism sound pitiful.
I watched the boy. He was well informed, and our scout had been right. The man knew how to blend in, to make connections. Gochan, seemingly a brute, had a thoughtful look on his face. He reminded me of Maroboodus, and I decided they were all very clever.
Segimundus was quiet.
I sighed. “He means to say,” I spoke as Gochan watched me and frowned, “that we need men to make Armin a Thiuda for good. We have to kill Segestes, or his men, and since Segestes knows too many men in Armin’s camp, we must find men, and women,” I said and bowed to Borena, “who know how to surprise the enemy.”
“They are no enemy of ours,” Gochan said, intercepting Borena’s answer. “Not before we know what is being offered.”
Borena sighed. “What else do we have? Of course, we go to this Armin and his wife! There, we shall find our place.”
“You are too eager,” Gochan said softly. “Peace.”
I rode before Segimundus. “You shall serve as my war-party. You shall be given land, and you shall be Cherusci. You will not need to fear the Hermanduri.”
They all stiffened.
I had insulted them on purpose.
They all spoke to each other in hissing terms, and finally, Borena rode to sit before me. Her green eyes were flashing. “My brother made us enemy of the Hermanduri. He did that because the Thiuda, Vannius, a man who is of Quadi stock as much as Hermanduri, allied with someone he hates. We do not fear anyone. I don’t, especially after what I lost. Fear? See, we take our enemy captive. Sometimes even our friends.”
She pointed her lance to the tents.
There saw a blonde, dirty man in former finery, and his face was a mask of fury. He was tall and powerful, and I guessed that would be the reason why Hermanduri rode the land after the Sarmatians.
“This is Vannius,” I said, and laughed. “Oh, that is an odd way to treat your king!”
The Sarmatians grinned.
“In that case,” I said, “since you need no protection, and can solve a great problem for Armin, you are most welcome to live on his land. Halls, and herds of cattle will be yours, and you may keep what you steal from Rome, and Segestes. The rest of Armin’s men will pay their lords a part of the loot, but you may keep it, horses included.”
At that, Borena’s face brightened. The Sarmatians were smacking their lips in approval, and Gochan was nodding. “This is very fine. Very fine, indeed. And we serve you?”
“I shall be your war-lord,” I said. “That is Adalwulf, and with him, we shall kill our foe.”
“A worthy cause,” Gochan rumbled. “And you are? I see you know war, and have seen it, and survived it, and no doubt your Woden embraces you as warmly as Fire loves us. We asked for your names already, and you have not given yours.”
And then things changed.
I shifted in my saddle and spoke. “I am Hraban, formerly of Marcomanni, then I served Drusus and Tiberius, and now, I fight to kill the man who killed my wife. I am Hraban, the man they call—”
“The Oath Breaker,” Gochan said darkly. Borena put a hand before her face. Ourbazo stopped riding and looked at me with his mouth open. Alde was looking up to the sky, exasperated.
There was a deadly silence in the camp. It was freezing silence, and I heard Adalwulf pulling his sword, the sole sound in the field.
I sighed and pulled on my helmet. “You have an issue with this?”
Borena was staring at me with huge eyes and rode to the side. Alde was smiling, like she had seen a ghost, and Ourbazo was riding and nodding to himself, muttering something, and seemed like a mad thing ready to attack.
Borena spoke quickly. “He has a reputation, brother, and you must not…this is about us all. Not just you.”
Shit.
The Roxolani shifted in their saddles, lances lowering somewhat. They looked like they were getting ready to charge.
Gochan laughed and shook his head. “Hraban. Long have I heard of Hraban. I have heard your tales, many sung in the halls of Vannius himself.”
“None pleasing to the ear,” I said. “I know it well.”
“Few are,” he agreed, “but that is not the problem. Fire God knows I have made many mistakes and all the songs about me are not quite true.”
I rode back and forth, eyeing him.
He grinned. “You are a dangerous man,” he said, “dangerous and mad for battle. Mad for death? I know. I hear.”
Borena cursed. “By mare’s sour milk,” she said. “They offer us a way out. Will your stupidity never end?”
“Silence!” Gochan roared. “Silence, you stupid, rebellious fool. Your son died because he was unlucky. Others did too. It is not my fault!”
There was an embarrassed silence.
A man moved in the Sarmatian ranks. He was tall, wide and muscular and held, unusually, an ax on his lap. That ax was the size of a man, and the man’s bald head was trembling with rage.
That would be Borena’s husband.
Gochan glared at the man and turned to me. He visibly gathered himself and looked down at me. “My sister, and co-ruler, is upset. I am too. It is because of an oath we made once, and what I expect them to uphold like I have.”
Borena hissed. “We gave oaths to Vannius as well.”
Gochan sneered at her. “This came before!” He looked back at me. “This oath is important and think not I have not broken oaths before. I have. This is the one I shall never break. It is for Tamura, my mother.”
“Tamura,” I said. “For a mother. I lost a mother and I made an oath to avenge her. I know some oaths are more important than the others.”
He grinned. “My mother was a queen, and she was called the Cripple. Tamura the Cripple. Her leg was hewn on the bed her king was murdered on. That king, a Hermanduri of great stature, relative to the yonder bastard Vannius, died before he could fulfill his destiny. That murderer is my father. She spoke of him often, and he is to be blamed for our tribe’s misery, the long years of distrust from our Hermanduri brothers, the many deaths that followed. My mother married again, but never a king. Borena and I? We share that murdering father. Alde and my wolf-brother there, the Young Wolf, are hers with a war-chief of the Hermanduri. We could have been more. We might have ruled. She told us to give her an oath the moment we could ride.”
“And oath to kill this father of yours,” I said.
“To never to listen to him,” he snarled. “Never to obey him. Never to serve his blade, or in his tribes. To hunt him and his kin. Vannius here, like many tribes in the east, have lately been allying with him.”
And then I knew what I was looking at.
I was looking at kin.
My eyes went to Borena’s, who looked shocked as I was. They went to Alde and the young wolf, who was not staring at me but smiling to himself. The l
atter two were not related to me.
But Gochan and Borena were.
“This is about my father,” I said simply. “The father I hate as much as you do.”
Gochan rubbed his face and shook it. “An oath is an oath.”
Borena hissed. “Mother was mad with hate. Her foot made her cripple for life. She was bitter, and angry and made us give such oaths when we could barely speak. You broke us away from Vannius. You tore our families and people to the road for that old, stupid oath. And now, they offer us something great, and you still want to harm the families? This is madness, brother. Madness.”
Gochan, heaving around in his saddle, jumped down. He pulled his long, slightly curving sword and looked up at me. “I suppose you want to fight on foot.”
I laughed softly and nodded. “If you do not mind, brother. I am no fool.”
“Good,” he murmured. “It would be dishonorable to cut down an idiot. I’d still do it, but I would feel bad.”
I couldn’t believe it.
He looked like father. Borena had father’s eyes.
He was older than I was but looked younger. He moved with certainty and seemed to be sure of his victory. I jumped down.
“Shield or no shield?” he asked. “No shield. I choose, since you don’t want a horse. Naked, Hraban. You don’t look flabby, so you shall be all right.”
“Naked?” I asked.
“What, you have a small cock?” he asked, as two men jumped to help him. “Afraid to show it? It is our way, when you fight a duel. I doubt you need to fear embarrassment. It won’t be as big as mine, but—”
“Oh, shut up,” I said. “I came here to recruit you to fight for Armin.”
Borena opened her mouth. Gochan shook his head at her. “We will fight for Armin. Your friend can lead us to him. I regret to tell you that I shall not settle for less than your head. And I hear you are not well liked by any of your masters, so they will perhaps be grateful?”
I shook my head and began stripping as well. Alde dismounted and helped me with my chain. I let her, though I kept a close eye on her.
Adalwulf was leaning down at me. “He’ll butcher you. Hraban—”
“Not much choice, is there?” I murmured. “Borena seems like she’s easier to work with. Practical and not mad like this one. What a damned nightmare, eh? Make sure Gervas doesn’t go and get himself killed if I slip on Gochan’s cock and die of fright.”
He spat and cursed Gochan. “Hraban said he has a feud with Maroboodus, no? You are both doing him a favor, you damned oafs.”
Gochan, pulling off his pants, his heavy muscles gleaming, pulled out his sword. He did have a sizable manhood. He spoke, scratching his balls and holding his sword over his shoulder. “I hear they hate each other, aye. Why?”
“At least let him kill Maroboodus,” Adalwulf spat, “before you behead him. Your oath didn’t say you have to kill the kin before Maroboodus! Kill each other after!”
He hesitated and squinted. He stood there, butt naked and tall as a horse, and stared up at Adalwulf. “And is he out to kill Maroboodus? Truly?”
They all stared at me with morbid curiosity. I wiped my face clean of sweat, for it was hot. I pushed out of my caligae and stripped away my pants.
I stepped before him, my black sword out. I didn’t blush or flinch.
His eyes went down.
The difference was not big. Gochan grinned. “Never saw a Germani who liked to stand naked before hundreds. Usually they are so shy. They start shivering and make odd, embarrassed noises.”
I spat at his feet. “You’ll make the noises when I gut you. Of course, I want to kill Maroboodus. I have tried many times. See the scar?” I pointed at my face. “That’s his. He killed my mother. Others. It is a long story, brother. Not as long as yours, but filthy as shit itself.”
He stared at me for a long time. He was thinking.
Then Borena rode forward. “Enough. We shall serve you and your son, Hraban of the Broken Oaths. My brother is making a fool of himself.”
Gochan still looked at me with curiosity, and I tried to delve deep into his thoughts. His eyes went to Borena, full of anger, and then to the heavy, huge man near her.
He seemed not too keen on fighting, after all. Adalwulf had spoken sense into him.
But he didn’t want to lose face in front of Borena.
And I knew I could give him a gift, a show of peace. “Let Woden guide your choice, Gochan. Here it is. We shall lead your people together. You shall get what Armin promised anyway, those who survive. All the loot you can carry. You and I shall fight for Armin, until the war is done, and then, together, we shall find my father. As it happens,” I said, “I think we must face him anyway. I shall not speak more of that now. When we find him, we shall throw dice and decide on his fate like that. The one who wins, kills him. Then, you and I may settle the rest of your oath, if it pleases you.” I spread my hands and gestured for the ground. “Let the gods of the earth decide. I shall fight your man. A champion of your choosing. If I win, Woden wants you to do this. If I lose?” I shrugged. “Make your deals with Adalwulf and fight Father later on your own.”
He grinned, and his eyes flashed. “Alde. You have sight.”
Alde, the blonde, had sight.
I cursed.
I hated vitka and völva and feared them. She, a woman of Roxolani, a servant of their gods, perhaps, had sight, and such sight had ever proven either lies or ways to hurt me.
Alde took a ragged breath. “It is a good way. I say you should agree.”
Borena looked at his brother. “Brother. You should just—”
“I agree,” Gochan said. “I agree to this. I suppose I must get dressed.”
I nodded and looked bored. “I suppose I must stay naked then?”
“No need,” he said with a grin. “I like to intimidate Germani who know how to fight. They are at loss without their armor and with their balls hanging out. Besides, you are old. I half hoped you would have tripped on your own sacks. We have no such traditions. Keep your rags.”
I spat and turned, tugging at my pants. Alde was cursing as she was lifting my chain and working with the clasps and hooks. “So, who shall be the champion?”
“I need the best,” he said. “Wolf-Face is good. My brother. But he is too young. It wouldn’t be fair to you, Hraban.”
Ourbazo laughed softly.
“I say it has to be a worthy man,” Gochan rumbled, his eyes going through the men.
His eyes settled on Borena’s husband. “The man is called Boulder. It is he, perhaps, who shall fight.”
Borena’s eyes went large as plates. “What? You will not—”
“He looks scared,” I said, as I pulled on my tunic and Alde and one of our men was lifting the chain over my head. “He is not the one. He is shaking.”
Boulder growled and jumped down. “No, I am the one. It will be a pleasure. Let it be so.”
“Brother!” Borena howled. “You must not.”
“Feel free to join him,” Gochan said, to my shock.
I had been prepared to help him put Borena in her place.
Now, he suggested I fight both.
I would die.
Borena looked at me with despair. “Brother,” she said, “I didn’t want this. Aye. I have challenged the Stallion. I have cursed him. He has cause to be mad at me. But this? If you fight my husband, you fight me as well.”
Adalwulf was about to open his mouth, but Gervas beat him to it. “Let me help you!” he called out, and I closed my eyes, seeing the plan fully ruined. I opened them and saw Alde and the Young Wolf staring at me with curiosity, but I turned. “Warrior. It is an insult to your warlord to think he cannot beat a woman and a fat ox alone. Step back.”
“But Fa—” he began, and I shook my head at the fool.
He went quiet, and I stepped forward.
Despite the armor they now had pulled on me, I felt light and fast, and held my black sword to the side while I kneeled to grasp a shie
ld. I knew Gochan was watching. I left the caligae on the ground.
I looked up at Borena. “I am sorry. I try not to kill you.”
She spat.
I stepped closer to Gochan, looking at Borena, who turned and was speaking to Ourbazo. The young man was shaking his head, and Borena was hissing. Alde moved to pick up Borena’s weapons and was ready with them.
Borena. Sister.
She was not young, but she was savagely powerful woman, and fast to boot. I saw the man, terribly huge, Boulder indeed, a thick-necked bastard with a long ax swiping the air as he hopped around, stretching.
The Sarmatians were yelling encouragements to them, drowning us in noise.
“And if I kill Borena?” I said, while the noise lasted. “Our sister?”
“Make sure she doesn’t kill you,” Gochan said. “But if you do, I won’t be sorry. That’s what you were saying, no? That you can aid me, and then I aid you? You read men well. She is a threat. Has been since I took Vannius.”
He didn’t care for her. He thought she was dangerous. I didn’t know them.
I had nothing against her. She had seemed the sane one of the two.
And now, she might die. Likely, I would.
“And when we share men like yours,” I asked him, “how does it work if we disagree?”
“Then they follow me, likely,” he answered. “But you cannot ask for a better group of men.”
I looked around at the nearly two hundred Roxoloani. A wilder group of riders you could never find. They looked killers the lot—young and old, and vagabonds every single one. Their families were gathering from the tents, looking on. While Germani pride themselves in their skills for war and raid, as horse rustlers or cow thieves, these men had perfected the art.
With men like this, dubious, evil men, one could indeed kill Germanicus in battle, or outside it.
One could achieve many goals.
All I must do is to kill a woman I am related to.
I stared at my sister who had abandoned all her apprehensions. She took the lance and the round shield and dismounted. She was soon walking back and forth, holding her lance high, praying. Her magnificent body was gleaming with sweat, and she settled to my left side. The Boulder walked to stand to my right, gripping the huge ax, staring at my sword.
The Summer Sword Page 8