The Summer Sword

by Alaric Longward

  I saw Segestes pulling away with Alfrid, and I galloped at the man, trampling foes.

  “Woden, please, give him to me!” I called out, and Woden no longer listened to me, or Alfrid was Woden’s man as well, and in higher favor, for he was turning his horse, and he charged me, maiming his men to get to me. The wounded face was screwed in a grimace. His sword was singing as he shook it. We crashed together. His blade crashed to my helmet and slit the bronze side of it. My club crashed to his chest. We both felt like thunder had struck us down, and we rolled amid the dead and the living. I saw Segestes crying for help as he rode away. I crawled my way up, pulled out a short blade from mud, and staggered to Aflrid’s side. He was weeping, trying to breathe, his chest crushed and stabbed through him.

  “Well fought, lord,” I murmured.

  Then I fell, and Gochan, on foot, grabbed me and swung me to his shoulder as he waded for Armin, his sword stabbing.

  I heard the screams of victory, and then I was carried to the side where Thusnelda cared for me, smiling down on my face sadly.

  ***

  Later, when I lay in my hall, I found life had entered the dreary place.

  It was filled with feasting Sarmatians. Wulf and Gervas were staring with huge eyes at the masses of men who were making their home in the hall, and many in Adalwulf’s, and those who didn’t fit, mainly the families, in the fields. They were joyous, raucous, and loud, and the servants of Adalwulf were overwhelmed and horrified. Hild was crying as she was fetching ale. Gochan had entered, grim, for Segestes had escaped, Fortuna again on his side. Segimundus was walking in the hall, speaking to the Sarmatians, and Armin appeared as I watched my half-brother rearranging the hall, namely making it into a home by moving furniture in and lighting fire.

  Then the bastard cornered Gervas, whom Wulf covered bravely, and not soon after, the two were chuckling and exchanging battle stories.

  I removed my helmet and felt skin and flesh tearing open, and blood fell to my lap. Alde appeared and kneeled next to me, the tall blonde looking at my wound with worry. She was silent and introspective as she worked. She had some wounds of her own, one in her thigh and one on her shoulder, but she began dabbing water to mine and was murmuring, her sword never far.

  Armin came to me and looked around. He was smiling, as if pleased by the raucous crowd.

  “You can have them in your hall, lord,” I said. “You, if I recall, rued the silence and emptiness?”

  He laughed softly and nodded, massaging his neck. “Segestes—”

  “I saw,” I said. “I tried to get to him. Alfrid gave his life for him.”

  “He has the bastard’s luck,” the man said. “Baggi, Alfrid—”

  “I killed them,” I said. “Both.”

  He smiled thinly. “I heard. And the last shit, Chlodulf is dead. They were all killed, the latter when he ran away. Segestes has no more old families to lean on to,” he said. “He has no more right to claim I have broken the laws and the rules. He tried to kill me, and Ernust will bear witness to the fact, if our men do not suffice. It wasn’t ideal, but he stays in the burg and has no more sway in the matters of the Cherusci. We shall have Segimundus guard my hall, and someone the burg, and that is that.” He chuckled. “We are now free of his chokehold. Let him come and complain, if he dares. He has just few hundred men and no war-chiefs to swear by his words.”

  “He should die,” I said. “It is—”

  “I cannot kill him like that,” he said sadly. “It would seem cowardly, and I cannot afford any loss of honor.”

  I smiled. “I agree.”

  “Do you?” he murmured. He looked around at the Sarmatians. “Men like you, eh?”

  “Men like me,” I agreed. “And women, if you can imagine.”

  “Half-brother of yours, Segimundus said,” he mentioned.

  “Half-brother indeed,” I told him. “My father was busy with a Sarmatian called Tamura, years past. Gochan is a great warrior.”

  Alde grunted in agreement.

  He was smiling as he watched the riders. “There is a Sarmatian woman you nearly killed. Thusnelda is looking after her, she has servants, and your son is her friend,” he said. “She is in one of my halls. They say she is your sister. They also say you nearly killed her.”

  “She fought well,” I told him. “Do not harass that one, lord, for she and Thusnelda would geld your high nuts.”

  He looked mildly insulted, and Alde punished me by pressing a nail into my wound. Her eyes were on Gervas, who was drunk and showing how he had fought some foe that had likely not existed.

  It was a happy hall.

  I was, just then, happy.

  Armin brought me back.

  “We shall prepare a Thing for the winter,” he told me. “Everyone shall be invited.”

  I nodded. “You had a plan for next year?”

  He straightened his back and shook his head. “We must end the bickering. I must be made into a king, a Thiuda for life. The Cherusci will agree. And the tribes must swear their oaths to ours. Cherusci must lead. The others must obey us. Being a hero for them is not enough anymore. Fighting is no longer my forte, anyway. Getting old, Hraban. Old. I have no idea how your father manages it, if he does. You seem to love it still.” He smiled bitterly. “Still, fight I must.”

  I grunted. “If you get them to obey you, I suppose you have a plan for Germanicus? And how would you make them obey, Armin? They have all made excuses for two years.”

  He nodded. “We have a plan for Germanicus. Marsi and I do, mainly. The others will join us when the Chauci and the Chatti show—”

  “Chatti?” I asked. “They give oaths to nobody.”

  He shook his head, unhappy. “They will give me oaths. Ernust of the Chauci, and Arpus will hear my proposals. Marriages. They will obey me if they see me sharing our highest blood with them. The Chauci have all but agreed.”

  He sounded confident. He looked sour as he thought about the Chatti.

  He was keeping a cheerful face.

  He went on, sad. “The rest do not see the cause, but they see the largest tribes standing with me, and they see Segestes gone, and Segimundus ruling his father’s men. I shall show them this.”

  I looked at a scroll. I scratched my head. “They cannot read, mostly.”

  He shook his head. “It is a message from Tiberius to Segestes. A man was caught. I would have made one up, to be sure. It says specifically that Rome will invade us starting next year. Augustus is giving Germanicus few years to kill us all and to restore Rome’s glory.”

  I looked at him uncertainly.

  He frowned. “What?”

  “They will give you oaths,” I said, “and they might cheer you with your own mead in the Yule Feast, and they will accept your marriages. But they need more.”

  “What do they need?” he asked. “Is this not enough?” He waved the scroll to my face. “Is not my sword enough? The Summer Sword?” He slapped the golden hilted blade of Varus. “And my willingness to share our blood in marriages? Is that not more than any Cherusci has ever done? We are the tribe who leads. The rest follow.”

  “They are Germani,” I said. “They need a cause other than vague threats from Rome. They need more than noble marriages and a fancy, heroic sword. They need to…” I went quiet.

  “What?”

  “See and feel it,” I said. “They must feel the worthy cause in their stubborn souls. They have to see a reason to fight, not be told it. But you do what you must, Thiuda. War it will be. You must have the Chatti. Marriages are needed.”

  He walked back and forth and rubbed his face. “Feel it. The threat? See it?”

  “It is not enough,” said Alde softly, “for Rome to burn village here and there. They will fight, but sometimes, they won’t. Especially if they are not threatened. They need a cause they believe in.”

  He shook his head.

  He looked at his scroll and seemed to draw strength from it. “It is how we must go forward. Chauci and Chatti will
do well. Chauci nobles will marry my first child,” he said, and looked sad, and I wasn’t sure there would be one. “And Chatti? They will marry one as well. Thusnelda spoke with Segimundus.”

  “Segimundus?” I asked.

  “Aye,” he said tiredly. “He shall marry high. Ebbe’s daughter. Adgandestrius’s sister. Arpus will agree when I send him word. I am sure of it. They know he rules what Segestes ruled now. A rare opportunity. To be honest, I have not seen her. She is not young and never married. I hope she is not too…well.”

  Few had seen Gunda.

  I was smiling. “A grand plan. I always remember how Ebbe wanted me to marry her. She was promised to me once.”

  Gunda.

  The woman who had had a sight of me marrying her, dreamt of it.

  Alde glanced at me and was smiling uncertainly, and I was tired of women with sight. They seemed to swarm around me, or it might have been more common than I thought, and women used the divine to get their way. She got up and nodded at my wounds, walking off to the sleeping quarters, and Armin and I stared after her. Adalwulf was there, silently watching her as well, and grinned at me.

  Armin was not so happy. “You will not marry Gunda. You will marry her? That girl? She is not your relation, is she?”

  I grunted in agreement. “She is not. I might. I don’t know. She is a warrior. I never even saw Gunda.”

  He looked at me and shook his head. “Gods, but I feel Lok winking at me from under your lids. Remember what I said. You have your war-party now, they are terribly expensive, perfect for some deeds too dark for good men, and I sense you have made plans that I don’t want to hear about. Maroboodus comes after Germanicus. Remember that. Make no plans I might disapprove of. I thank you for your service, but I do not trust you. You are a raven, ill-omened, but I suppose you are this hero’s raven.”

  “I know.”

  He nodded. “Alas for the escape of Segestes, but I cannot take his burg. It will be expensive, and there are many women and children there, people of high Cherusci blood. Yet, he has no power left.” He watched Gochan and his brother feasting in the hall and got up and went to set up a feast for the Sarmatians. They spoke at length, laughed with all their heart, for Armin knew how to make allies, and left, leaving me sitting there.

  Adalwulf helped me up and settled me on a feast table next to Gervas, who was happy, so happy, and I, for some odd reason, forgot Cassia for that night.

  I watched my son. I smiled sadly. “You saw him?”

  He hesitated.

  “The dragon. The man shaking his spear in the fog, dancing.”

  He nodded. “It was…terrifying.”

  “Gods bless you, son, but learn your blade well,” I said. “You shall not be able to stop yourself from riding to battle. I am proud of you.”

  “And I, too,” he said. “Borena was too.”

  I frowned and then smiled. “Good. And you are not sleeping with her servant?”

  He snorted and grabbed ale for me. I drank, and he drank, and we both wrestled with Gochan, and he beat us both. We threw javelins with Ourbazo, and he beat both Adalwulf and I. We told lewd jokes, and Adalwulf beat all, and the Sarmatians sang badly, drank too much, and made merry, their blond and red-haired heads a sea of joy in my hall. Gervas finally fell asleep, and my half-brother smiled down at him.

  “I tell you this, Hraban,” he said. “If we ever come at odds against each other, and I must kill you, I shall spare him and raise him to the horse and lance, and he shall be the happier for it. For now, let him make both of us happy.” He pointed a dirty finger at me. “And you really should take heed of that advice. Be happy, you damned fool. Not just tonight, but during daytimes too.”

  “You don’t see your dead wife in Helheim when you dream, and if you do, you don’t see her during the day as well,” I said.

  He winked. “Does she seem mad at you, standing there in the gray lands?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Then make merry and see if she goes away, for it might be she is just disappointed in you and is trying to tell you to live. Go to Alde, fool. You don’t have to fall in love.” He waved me off my own table, and I picked up the boy and staggered forward with him, accidentally bumping his head on a pillar, and I realized I was drunk.

  I carried Gervas to his bed and left him there, turning to see a light of an oil-lamp burning in my room. I leaned on Gervas’s doorway and looked out to the room where a badly built door was letting in light through cracks.

  Cassia was gone.

  I’d never love again like I had her.

  But I could still find happiness. I could give it.

  There was no reason to be afraid of love, though there was of some lovers. It was the loss that frightened me.

  Aye. I was terrified. Of loss.

  I walked to the door and opened it.

  There, Alde was sitting on my bed, her legs crossed. She wore nothing, and I admired her scarred and tanned body. Her hair was long to her hips and wild around her face, and I looked at her small, perfect breasts and the gently curling hair between her legs.

  I stepped in, went to her, and kneeled. “I am not an easy man.”

  “And still,” she said sadly, “I see you, and I shall guard you, and you will love me.”

  I smiled. “I doubt you can see that.”

  “I, and Gervas will all live longer that you,” she said. “And I will be yours.”

  “Gervas?” I asked, wondering at her.

  “I see it,” she said. She put a hand on my cheek. “I saw this. Fire God showed it to me. I see it as plain as a nose on your face. You believe, or you don’t. I will bring you out of your misery, slowly, one moment at a time, and you can be a father, and happy. Perhaps one day we might be…”

  I nodded. “Perhaps.”

  It felt wrong. Somehow, her words were empty.

  She wasn’t speaking to me. She was speaking for a god.

  No got could be trusted.

  But she felt warm, and her words kind, so I smiled.

  She blinked away a tear, trembled a moment, and I smiled at her. Instead of more words, she caressed my face, and I leaned forward to lay my head on her shoulder. She stroked my hair, and I, Hraban the Oath Breaker, took her to my bed.

  In the morning when I woke, I touched a yellow fletched arrow, saw the blood on the wood still, and walked to the hall, naked, and watched the rows of Sarmatians sleeping. I walked to the fire-pit and stoked the fire with the arrow, and there, I hesitated.

  Love and life, I could have.

  But Cassia would not rest before I had more.

  Germanicus’s life. Ulrich’s.

  I had intended to burn it. To give Alde a chance.

  Instead, I kept it.

  I needed more than Alde to be rid of it. I needed more than her god whispering in my ears through her lips.

  Men had to die. To that end, I had to go.

  I thought about it. I thought about our many crimes and the crimes that would be ours after I was done. Adalwulf hoped to redeem himself by taking an eagle. One more. He had Gisil to guide him.

  I had no hope for redemption. Alde gave me pleasure.

  She was little more than a companion. She spoke of Fire God, and of happiness, and it felt like ash in my mouth.

  I had blood to spill. I had duty to perform.

  It would save Gervas.

  I turned and dressed. I woke up Gervas and told him I would go hunting for some days, told him to tell Adalwulf I was going to ride south, and rode out in secret, taking covert paths away to deal with some pressing issues. First, I rode to Mattium and spoke with the Chatti. Arpus, Adgandestrius and I spoke for many nights, and there was little joy in the discussions. Later, when they thought about my offers I met with a woman.

  When I learned the Chatti had agreed, I left, and felt terrible shame for what I was doing.

  Then, I rode back and found a certain village with a terrible reputation, and I found a man.

  I spoke with the man
and sealed another deal.

  For Gervas, I endured the shame that would follow, if my plan succeeded.

  I rode back to Armin’s village and found I had been looked for, and many suspicious faces. The relief on the faces of the Sarmatians was clear, as it was on Adalwulf’s, though he also smiled like a wolf.

  That winter, late Yule Feast, Gunda arrived, and new year began, and that year, Germanicus came to make his war on Armin.

  Alas, that he was so good at it, and we, so divided.

  Alas, that Segestes had survived.

  For Armin still lacked a cause, and he was just a hero, and the king with a cause would only be born of sorrow.

  I was his raven, the hero’s raven, and I knew how to make him a king.

  BOOK 2: THE WOLF SUMMER

  “I will not win their hearts, Caecina, unless I carve them out of their chests.”

  Germanicus to Legate Caecina

  CHAPTER 7

  (Black Lodge, Yule-Feast, January A.D. 13)

  Gunda was coming to the Black Lodge. She didn’t arrive for the start of the Yule-Feast. The feast went on for ten days, and she came for the last few.

  All the Chatti were late to come to the great Yule-Feast of the Cherusci. All the others came early, one by one, and joined the feast for Woden, the prayers to dull the winter’s harshness, and in defying the death that followed it with merriness and mead. They were there for the last joy before the long months of death and sorrow but come they did.

  It was by no means a certain thing men could come and celebrate together.

  There were winters where you would not be able to move between two halls in a village. We were lucky. This winter was mild with snows that were light on the ground, and though the lack of deep snowbanks didn’t change the fact people got ill from damp and cold, and many starved, it seemed still hopeful that the great adelings of the free Germani could travel to Armin and stay as his guests.