She chuckled. “Oh, well, thank you!”
I smiled. “You know what I mean. Or perhaps, you do not, but—”
“I never intended to marry,” she said. “I have pretended to have sight. My father Ebbe told me about you, and for some reason, perhaps I did see a glimpse of your immediate future. I was sure you would never marry me or obey those who try to force you to do so. So, I stayed free for long years.”
“Never loving,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I have loved. There have been handsome warriors that were not high enough to marry, and I am not, it would shock Arpus and the others, a virgin.”
I mulled over her words. “They could sink you into a swamp for that.”
“They would, if they were not too busy fighting Rome and others,” she said. “The Chatti nation is still strong, but the wars have exhausted the great families.” She rolled her shoulders. “In any case, now, when I finally had to, it seemed a lie easiest to believe, this marriage.” She gave me a long look. “You have a terrible reputation. Father’s sword fits you anyway. He liked you well. He thought you were just a lost soul who needed guidance. He was a very good man.”
I nodded. “I loved him well. He died a sad death.”
She looked at the hall. “We have all made a pact together. The Chatti agree with you. Arpus has not bent a knee, but he will aid Armin well. Now we must be patient.”
“Shall we sleep in different rooms?” I asked.
She was silent as she thought about it. There was a reason for what we had done, and she had bravely accepted my plan after Adgandestrius had explained it to her. It didn’t mean I would bed her.
“And will you go back to that Sarmatian girl?” she asked. “She was furious, but in a silent way. That is the dangerous anger, isn’t it? The silent one.”
I was surprised. “Would you mind?”
She smiled wistfully. “I know not. It is an adventure. It is also a marriage. No matter how it was born, it should be respected. I shall get to know you, and you will know me. We shall have your hall, and I will…we shall share a bed.”
I felt honored by her words. I was also, to my surprise, interested.
“You are one of the worst choices for a woman to marry,” she said and brought me down many notches, “but I find myself drawn to the tragedy and sad tales. I always liked them best. I might grow to love your sad tale.”
“I loved Cassia,” I said. “I love her still.”
“I know,” she told me. “But there is not just one love. You love one for one thing, another for something else. Both fill a different part of you. Now you love a ghost, a memory. You will love what I shall give you. And when it is all done, and Chatti are satisfied and your agreements with my kin are fulfilled?” She looked at me and smiled. “Perhaps I shall stay with you. I think we will love each other then, though not like you loved her once. It will be different.”
Impossible.
“It is not,” she said as she saw my doubtful face and I looked at her dubiously. “You will see.”
I closed my eyes and saw Cassia across the gray river, sad and still.
She spoke and shivered with cold. “That Sarmatian girl likely made things easy for you. Didn’t demand anything? I don’t make demands either, other than you stop pretending Cassia was everything. No love is everything.”
“There is danger to you,” I said. “You know this. We are all at peril.”
“There is danger waking up every day,” she said, and sounded brave as Cassia had. “I am not Cassia,” she said. “I am Gunda. Your wife. Come.”
She rode forward.
I followed. She wondered and pondered at my silence, and then she settled to look at the hall. “It looks like a fine place. I suppose we will live with Armin?”
I shook my head. “No. We shall go to war soon.”
“Oh?” she said. “No hall and crops and cows for me to deal with?”
“None,” I said. She looked surprised and then happy.
“Good,” she said. “I dislike crops and cows. I like my spear.”
She went silent and pulled the furs around her. She watched Libys as he was chanting over a rock now, seeking guidance from the spirits, and she smiled as he swayed gently. Wind didn’t bother Libys, nor cold, and the Chatti vitka was smiling as he sang songs of galdr.
She nodded at the vitka.
“Does it please you, Hraban? This place?”
I said nothing.
“It does not. The hall is not fine enough? Come, spit it out. I brook no silence and want things aired.”
I sighed. “I married with bare feet,” I said. “We stood before each other and took each other, saying the words, and we were married. Then, in a place much like this, in an empty hall, we took each other and loved from then on. I let her down and led her on a way that should have given her prosperity and happiness, but it was paved with deceit and danger, and while we survived Rome and its mistress…”
I hesitated.
I had said too much.
“Go on,” she said. “Don’t hold it from me.”
I decided to humor her. “The place doesn’t please me. Despite all your words, I feel like I am betraying her. I feel like I am letting her down again. How dare I marry another when I had her wait for so many years? She waited when I fought Armin and for Armin here in Germania. When I fought for Drusus, she healed and waited. When we went to Rome, she was taken away to Livia, and again, she waited. She feared, healed, waited, and endured. She went south, a hostage, and suffered. When I fought her free, she was asked to wait. She served me, our interests, Gervas, and betrayed…” I said, remembering what she had had to do to secure our escape from Maroboodus.
Gunda put a hand on mine. “It was all her choice. She lived well. Wyrd.”
Wyrd?
I spoke harshly. “I was selfish. She was good and died for me. And now, I am getting married? Nay, I deserve it not.”
“You do not know what you marry into, so it might be a punishment most fitting,” she said softly. “Don’t be selfish with me. You deserve what you give. You might have failed her indeed. Do better with me. It is not about what you deserve. It is also about what I deserve. What we deserve together. You have learnt a lesson. Use it.”
I smiled weakly and nodded. “Aye, maybe it is so. I try to be better.”
The words were hollow. And yet, I felt…challenged. Intrigued.
“You are full of guilt,” she said. “That too, is part of life. Your job is to be rid of it. Live this moment, Hraban,” she said cheerfully. “Bare feet, eh?”
There was something about her that was hard to resist. She was honest, blunt, and had been when I had met her in Mattium earlier to seal a part of my plan with the adelings. She was also practical. She navigated sorrows with hope and smile.
That hope felt good. The smile warmed me.
I nodded. “She was a Gaul.”
“I’ll keep my shoes on,” she told me. “We shall make it work. It has all been agreed on, and now the road begins. For my people.”
I hesitated, and I followed her. “For Ebbe, and Oldaric, and for the Chatti,” I said. “Let things go as we planned.”
She smiled. “And let we defeat any surprise our enemies throw at us. Now, come. First the blessings. Then bed. Give me a girl, Hraban.”
I kept my shoes on and followed her to stand in the snow. There, Libys smiled at us and nodded. “Gods see and agree to your marriage. There are blessings from Woden, Tiw, Siff, and the gentle Frigg. You shall guard each other and be happy, as much as the Spinner’s threads let you.”
He turned and walked to his horse.
I pushed Gunda forward, and at the doorway, I turned. I saw Adalwulf’s men.
Then I saw a shadow deeper than the others, three of them. One was a woman, whose face I could see in the light of the moon.
It was Alde.
***
The next morning, I found Alde hunting and spoke to her at length, and wee
ping, she sat with me, and we spoke softly for hours.
In the end, she forgave me.
Then I began preparing our men for war. Adalwulf’s men and the Sarmatians would leave for west in a few months.
I was married, I had my son with me, and soon, I would make my move against my father.
I would also hunt those who hunted me. I would discover who they were. I would frustrate them, and then, I would trap them. Adalwulf’s men were always with each of us, from the night of my marriage. We were never alone.
I would kill those who had been set by my father on my trail. I would discover who was working with father. I would use them to achieve the impossible. To defeat Rome.
Alas, that it would cost us all so much.
CHAPTER 8
(Near Xanten, River Luppia, August 25th A.D. 13)
The rain had been a constant companion for weeks. I stared from the brooding woods and a hill at the sights across the river.
There, the gigantic camp of Xanten held at least two legions, and there were two other castra near the river to the north of it. Auxilia camps dotted the land.
I watched the river, where Wandal, Ansbor, and I had been trained to swim like legionnaires. Every soldier had to know how, as per the great Caesar’s degree. Bridges were permanent now, two of them, one that led from west to east on the northern bank of Luppia River and then a southern one to the Sigambri lands across the Luppia. Those lands were now mostly Roman, and not many people lived there. Those who wanted to resist Rome still, after Maelo’s death, had moved to the Marsi, their close relatives.
Gray Wolf the Tencteri had invited us to his lands, and we had waited until Aprilis was spent before starting the patrols. We had been patrolling for months.
Armin’s army had prepared, and he had collected tens of thousands of men during Maius and early summer to await Germanicus, who knew where the Marsi supposedly held the eagle.
And now, in August, no defeat could have been worse for Armin than the wait.
I sat on a hill with some of Adalwulf’s men. For months and months, they had guarded each of us. Gunda, she had a man or two with her at all times. She would deal with the issues in the small hall we had claimed our own in Gray Wolf’s lands, but never alone. She had always spear at hand, and the men around her were always warned against getting bored or too relaxed. From day to day, night to night, she was guarded. When we slept, and enjoyed out own moments, Gervas was always out on patrol, and never alone. He always had ten of Adalwulf’s men with him, and Wulf. Borena was often with him. She would seek him out, and I knew she missed her son.
We, the ones whom Maroboodus wanted captured, were rarely together, and never unguarded.
And despite the danger, and the guards, and the wait for Germanicus to move, we were happy. All three.
Gunda had bullied me back to life. Where Alde had been mysterious, often silent, and spoke of her gods and my destiny, Gunda would jest and mock me until I smiled and felt relaxed. She would see my morose face, and she would force me to speak, to answer her, and she would not hide her thoughts, no matter my mood. When she saw me brooding over fire, fingering the arrow, she would interrupt my moment of sorrow. She would demand I help her in the hall, and to tell her about my day, no matter how boring and what I planned. I soon found I missed her thoughts and counsel. When I woke up in the night, and walked the hall, unable to be rid of Cassia’s sad face, she would walk to me. She would hold my hand, and often, she would pull me back and make love with me.
There were nights I could find sleep and had no nightmares.
She was a friend. And during that summer, I found myself longing for her friendship when I was not with her.
There is light behind darkness, no matter how deep. One needed the right person to see it.
We had our oaths. I had revenge to take, and the future and life of Gervas hung in balance, and she was serving her dead father and the Chatti, but I also knew I was not alone, and her friendship gave me hope, a wish to live. She had been right. When everything was done, we would stay together.
Did I love her?
A little. More than I had Alde, I missed Gunda. I missed her words. I missed her touch. Was that not what love is made of?
It is.
I slowly, day by day, allowed myself to love both Cassia and Gunda.
And again, I began to feel the fear of loss.
Our marriage had been arranged to achieve several dark goals, and still, now I feared to lose her?
Love, and fear, and loss.
I hated them.
And she knew it. “Enjoy each day,” she told me every morning. “Don’t be a fool.”
I did. I tried. I often succeeded not to be a fool.
She was my friend. She was more. Not as much as Cassia had been, but…different.
And unlike it had been with Cassia, I spoke to her about her fears, her hopes, and dreams. She told me she was happy having a purpose, other than the duties as the princess of the Chatti. She loved to serve her family and Ebbe’s and Oldaric’s memory. She loved her family and people. She would do anything for them.
She also had found she loved the chance to see the lands.
She loved to share it with me. She loved the danger, the adventure, and our nights.
I was happy. I was sad for my losses, but at the same time, I was happy. It was due to her. She had shown there were many paths you could take, if one had to. I kept on mine, but it was a brighter path with her.
I watched below the hill I was sitting on. There Gervas and Wulf were racing Borena. Their twenty guards, all Adalwulf’s men were trying to keep up. They turned and raced up the hill. They didn’t see me, but they would go past soon.
Gervas was screaming at Borena. “Your mare is younger!” he was howling at her as she sped like the wind before all up that hillside.
She laughed wildly. “I bred her myself! She loves me! Your stallion dislikes you, that’s why he is letting me win!” she called out. “You cannot even beat your old aunt in wrestling, Gervas! You are a sad little boy! As weak as your friend!”
I smiled. I had seen it. She had, in all honesty beaten Wulf, and almost Adalwulf. Her leg was still weak, so she had lost that one.
“You didn’t fight honorably!” Wulf howled. “You were distracting us! A woman shouldn’t wrestle. It is not proper! And you spoke while you—"
She laughed. “I’m made of honor, boy! None more so in this family! And I wrestle if I want to! We are daughters of the wolves, and no sheep!”
They thundered past without seeing us and I smiled sadly. While they didn’t seem to take their patrolling duties seriously, they were happy.
She too, was healing. She seemed almost young.
She still avoided Gochan, though she served in patrols with Alde. I watched her. She was smiling like she was the ray of Sunna, free.
She was happy.
She had grown so close to Gervas. He had taken the place of her son. He knew it. He accepted it.
I frowned. Even Gunda loved her. She laughed with Gunda. They had even mocked me together.
She was family.
But Alde was aloof. She was silent, and sad, and lonely. It was hard for her to spend time with us, despite my apologies.
“How many?” I asked as men rode to me. “How many has he lost?”
Adalwulf, whose hundred men guarded the small hall I used for our base had brought the accursed Donor to us.
The man’s scouts knew all the lands from the Rhenus to Albis rivers and were deadlier in the woods than any hunter or Sarmatian, but he himself looked tired and sick. Donor was staring at the camps and shaking his head. He hated both of us, and he was there to ask questions and not to answer them.
“Ten thousand,” he said. “Ten thousand of Armin’s men have gone home.”
I smiled tiredly.
No, they were not Armin’s men. That was the problem. I had been right.
Armin would blame me. He would blame what happened with Gunda on me an
d would lament the lack of oaths from Arpus. He would tell everyone that had only Arpus and the Chatti submitted to him publicly, then the others would have followed, and the men would have been obedient.
He was a fool.
It were the Chauci who left first. The men of the man who had given him sacred oaths had left first of all.
Donor went on and spoke about them dryly. “Mostly Chauci. They have missed feasts and harvests and have used their supplies many times over. Men are sick and tired of waiting under Sunna. Armin’s camp is reeling with this wait. And nothing is happening. Even Marsi went to celebrate. Some abandoned him and are celebrating Freyr and the harvest late. They have a hill dedicated to female goddesses and the Vanir, and thousands go that way in a few days. They live like there is no war.” He cursed. “There is none.”
I nodded. “The wolf is asleep.”
Nothing was happening on our side of the Rhenus.
The bridges were used daily. Galleys drifted up and down the Luppia as they supplied Alisio and Castra Flamma at the end of it. The gray, squat towers and smaller castra guarded the bridges, and slavers and traders used the roads under heavy guard. They wouldn’t be there, of course, if a war was imminent.
Germanicus was busy on his side of the river.
“He is there?” Donor asked softly, looking at the vast army across the Rhenus.
“He is,” I said sourly. “I have seen him.”
I had seen the bastard, and he had ridden to the bridges a few times under heavy banner, speaking to men, showing his face to all. The banner was purple, and Germanicus tall, thin, and dressed in silver and red. I had seen a cohort of Praetorians marching around him. I had seen Caecina, the legate who was the most senior of the four legions, riding amongst them.
I hated Germanicus.
Now, there was a fog, an unhappy griminess in the Ubii lands where Rome made their castra. Somewhere there, a great portion of the once proud Sigambri were slowly getting accustomed to being Romans, and those who were not Roman yet had told us supplies were low in Xanten.
There was likely no war coming. Not that year.
Donor squinted at the great forts. “Never seen one so large. Saw some on Danubius years ago, but nothing like this.”
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