I rode forward and leaned closer to Gervas. “I’ll have a chat with that man over there. He is here to see the grave mound.”
He squinted up at Adalwulf and the rider that was descending. He didn’t truly believe me. He was often sad, and I knew he thought about Borena, and what I had done to her. He spoke as his eyes rested on the figure. “Really? Are we in danger?” he asked, kneeling before the fallen deer, dagger out.
I hesitated and sighed. “Yes, Gervas. We are always in danger. It is not your fault. It is mine. “
He grunted. “That means little. It is how we deal with it that matters.”
I smiled and ruffled his hair, dropping his furred hat. He grinned at me, uneasily, as I left him, and they began butchering our food. I walked up the hillside, and Flavus and Adalwulf were riding down.
The traveler looked like any hunter, a mountain man of the great ranges. He looked like a vagabond, carried a spear, and wore little to alert anyone. He was, however, one of the eyes of Rome.
It was Flavus.
He smiled as he saw me. I didn’t answer the smile. He looked at Gervas. “How is he doing?”
I shrugged. “He is alive.”
“And Gunda is not? Truly?” he asked. “So, Armin will get you back to the war? He was soundly beaten and humiliated last year. As you wished. Remember Hraban, that you must defeat Germanicus, and not let him win. The safety of all we love hang on balance.”
His eyes were on Gervas.
I said nothing to that but asked my own questions. “How is Italicus?” I asked of his son, reminding he had people he cared about too.
He smiled, knowing the reason I asked. “Nothing has changed with Tiberius. If anything, he is a man of his word. You, Gervas, Wulf, and Adalwulf have places in Rome. That will be your place of honor.”
I looked down at Gervas. “He shall enjoy it this time.”
“Tiberius is honest,” he told me.
“I sent you a message.”
“I got it, and thus, he got it,” he said. “So. He guessed it. Maroboodus is speaking with Germanicus. He is sending killers on your tail. But you still have a plan.”
I shifted in my saddle. “Yes.”
“He does worry about it,” he said. “And he doesn’t fear Maroboodus and Germanicus. Tiberius,” he said, “has the respect of legions. Drusus the Younger is traversing the legion camps every year; his marriage to Gaius’s Livilla is blossoming. I hear things about that, but—”
“Is Tiberius aware,” I said, “that together they might command far too many men to handle fast? That Rome would be crippled for years.”
He nodded. “Apparently, Tiberius confronted Maroboodus. Your father says he is simply sending men to kill you, not Armin, and has no real contact with Germanicus. He says Germanicus is a governor in Gaul and has sent him emissaries, but he is the king of Danubius and a loyal servant to Tiberius. Tiberius,” he said, “says he can do no more. He is starting to be concerned over Germanicus. This business with your Sarmatians and the attack on Luppia was a masterpiece of deception and last year was a triumph for Germanicus. Eagle back in Rome? It irks Tiberius. The people are cheering Germanicus.”
I smiled. “I am dealing with it.”
He shrugged and looked tired. “Good. I wonder if you can. I wonder if Armin can. Tiberius wonders too. He is simply very clever, our Germanicus.”
I said nothing.
It was true Germanicus was smart. It was true he was ruthless and daring. He was cruel and brave at the same time, where Drusus had been brave, and cruel only when he had to be.
“I know not if he is cleverer than Armin,” I said simply. “But Armin is struggling with what the Germani are. Unruly. I will deal with both Maroboodus and Armin this winter.”
He frowned. “Armin?”
“Armin will deal with Germanicus,” I said. “But Armin needs help.”
He waved his hands around. “It seems to me that you are not very helpful to Armin here, in the land of the Chatti. It seems to me they have you on the defensive, and you are more than happy to hide away for your boy.”
I resisted the urge to pull him from his horse, and Adalwulf spoke instead. “Keep your mouth shut, friend. Armin sent him here. He didn’t run off. He will go back. Did you tell Germanicus Hraban would stay here this year?”
He nodded. “I did. He has been sending men here to confirm it.” His eyes flashed as he contemplated that bit of information and then looked around. “I have some questions too. And then, some information.”
“Ask away,” I said tiredly. “I have a deer to skin. Gervas is still struggling with it. I mean to teach him.”
He smiled. “My son is learning sword and spear and reading. But he knows nothing of skinning.”
He sounded superior and arrogant.
“Our sons,” I said, “will be senators who know how to skin their kills. Questions. Ask them.”
“Armin still has allies?”
Adalwulf spoke. “Helm has recovered. He stands with Armin, as does Mallovendus. The Marsi and the Sigambri Theudric with the Marsi have been decimated. Families have traveled north, but many remain. Marsi have ever been a small tribe. Now they are even more reliant on the Cherusci.”
“Tubantes?” he asked.
“They lost Sigvaldi two years past,” I said. “The man fought bravely. There are others to lead them. Tencteri and Usipetes are now living with Bructeri. They are poor and starving but will fight even more fiercely for it.”
“Sigvaldi,” he mused. “I remember. I was in Xanten. They took his head, like you took Varus’s,” Flavus said. “Carried it to Xanten and fed it to pigs.”
“You were there too when Varus fell,” I snarled. “Remember?”
He smiled. “Tubantes are still with Armin?”
“Again, tied to him,” I said. “Many Ampsivarii as well. Chatti, yes. But you are right to doubt. They are uncertain. Tanfana’s burning was a bitter blow. The loss of the eagle more so. The failure of Armin’s army far worse. And what hurt Armin badly,” I said, “was the fact he let the Pup surprise him for two years. A fine ruse or luck on part of Germanicus, but the campaign and killing Gray Wolf the Tencteri, and Sigvaldi? The losses last year? It is all a terrible blow. Armin should not have let the tribes disperse. But he is just a hero.”
Adalwulf shook his head. “They were bored and left. That is Germania. Freedoms, pride, and joy come before suffering. It is unfair they blame Armin for it. They simply left to celebrate and to gather the rest of the harvest when it was suggested Germanicus was too busy with the rebellion. Then they left because they were depressed for the loss of the Aquila.”
Flavus nodded. “But they still come. They still follow Armin, but what of the Chauci?”
“The Chauci will give him half his army this coming year,” I said. “Ernust has failed him twice. He must do better.”
“Chauci are cowards,” Flavus mused. “And the Suebi?”
“Semnones and Langobardi?” I asked. “They fear my father. They sit in Armin’s Black Hall, but they make no commitments. Neither does Inguiomerus and his half of Cherusci power. If they joined, Germanicus could be as clever as he likes; he would die in the woods. I told you.” I leaned closer. “I have a plan.”
Flavus laughed. “Well then. We are in safe hands.”
I shrugged. “It will be a terrible, bloody summer. Everyone knows it. But perhaps Rome will start suffering as well. It is time.”
“All Rome looks this way,” he told me, as he turned his horse around. “Every eye is on Germanicus. Make him immortal and kill him. He is getting ready. Orders to Moganticum legions to move north have been given. He will swarm Luppia.”
“He survived his wound,” I told him. “This year, he shall not. They are all going to Luppia?”
“A scratch rarely kills a man,” he laughed. Then he stopped and leaned down towards me. “Remember, Hraban, that you must be careful. I know he is plotting nastiness. He has sent spies all over. Many are speculatores, lik
e we were, and they will try to turn the hearts of some of the people here. Traitors will appear. There will be messages coming and going. Catch such men to serve us, and Armin.”
I smiled. “We already have.”
He blinked. “No, Hraban. Not all the legions are going to Luppia. The southern ones have other business this spring.”
I smiled and watched him go and stood there, waiting for him to disappear to the woods. Then I turned to Adalwulf.
“Everything is ready,” he said.
I got up and went to see the roman.
***
I found Gochan in his hall. I went to him and carried him a chunk of deer, which he nodded at appreciatively. “Well done. I have been starving for proper meat. They only make me gruel.”
“Gervas killed it,” I said. “And the servants only serve you gruel because you act like a pig when you are drunk.”
He looked hurt. “I am amusing when I drink. They love me.”
I placed a hand on the meant and tapped it. “I wouldn’t let them cook it for you. Ask some of your men.”
He nodded and shook his head. “I guess that is wise. Gervas is well? He is a good boy with bow. And sword. He…”
We both thought about Borena and oaths. He was a man far less cold than I was, full of fire, and sorrow often took hold of him easily.
I grunted. The man’s eyes were careful as he watched me, and he saw I carried Nightbright on my belt. “Trouble?”
“Always,” I said. “Are you ready for next month? They shall leave. All of them. All the warriors.”
He shook his head and walked to the side, where a separate fire-pit was smoldering. He sat down on a bench. “I am ready. Tired but ready. Armin will be angry that you are not there.”
I said nothing. I would be there, but later.
“And has there been any sign of my guest?” I asked.
“Which one?” he asked. “The one you asked Vannius to send to you or our guest.”
“Either?” I asked.
He nodded. “He is up. The other one is not here. Hasn’t been seen either. This one is snoring. I want him out soon.”
I cursed. Then I turned to see a man entering.
He was slight of build and had traveled in the land not one month before.
He was a Germani, spoke softly and politely, and had been Gochan’s guest, healing his frostbites and recovering from nearly starving. The man’s eyes went to me. He had not seen me, and his eyes flashed. “Is this…” he began.
“He is,” said Gochan. “Hraban, the widow. Raginmarr here has been asking about you.”
“So, here I am,” I said. “Why were you asking for me?”
He waved around the hall and spoke with respect. “To thank you! I was lost. I was seeking Armin’s land. I am a Matticati, from afar. I decided to come and fight for the Summer Sword.”
“In the middle of the winter,” I said.
He smiled cleverly and sat at a table. “There was a feud involved.”
I received a horn of ale from Gochan, who slapped a servant girl’s rear as she left. She was fuming. I lifted it to the man. “Well, no reason to thank me. My men found you on hunting trip. They couldn’t leave you there to die, could they? And now it is summer, and Summer Sword is again going to need good men.”
“I am grateful,” he answered. “Truly.”
“And you are in luck,” I went on. “We shall all travel to Armin come Maius. In few weeks’ time. Most every man. Only some will be left to guard Mattium. Well…” I shook my head. “I shall stay. My wife…son is too sick to go. I will be here. I shall guard Chatti grain, Chatti women, and that is the way of it. But you can go with my men.”
He looked at his hands and was nodding. “I am thankful. I shall. I hear my horse is nearly rested. Suffered from cold and a wolf-bite.”
“It is a good horse,” I agreed. “Saw it when they brought you in.”
It had been a good horse. A large one. Huge. Gaulish horse, I was sure of it. We had seen many such men. When Donor’s men were cautious and those of Ourbazo near invisible, the Romans who came to spy on me in Mattium were easy to spot. We had killed four and kept one.
And I was sure the man would not ride to Armin with my men.
I got up, threw shingles and wood to the fire, and used a spear shaft to make it burn bright. Gochan warmed his hands and pulled off his hat. I offered Gochan my hand and turned to Raginmarr. “Let Gochan know what you need for the trip, friend. In one month, the adelings shall gather in Armin’s village, and they shall leave for west in June. Do not hire yourself to Segimundus.”
He frowned. “This is a famous man, no? Why not?”
I shook my head. “Some say he hopes to rule over Armin. It is sure not to end well for him, eh? I wish you luck in battle. May you find a good lord.”
He smiled and bowed his head.
Later, he asked for supplies, claiming to want to go early to find that lord, and rode out that night.
I sat in my hall and brooded, for the cat was far, and the milk had been served.
Gods only knew if it would come and lick it.
I waited until Maius, begging for my luck to hold.
Then, day before the great Chatti army was to set out for Armin, on a bright day of kind winds, just when winter was dead and Freyr had had his feast and the Chatti had celebrated the coming harvest with drunken orgy and plenty of lovemaking, I was finally granted my wish.
I turned to see Adalwulf approaching and saw Gochan had a man with him.
He was wearing ragged leathers, and his face was long and smile as crooked, if fatter than it once was. It was no Roman speculatore, or spy. It wasn’t Donor’s man, or a mercenary of Ourbazo.
“We found your man,” my brother said. “You must hurry.”
“He is your relative too, Gochan,” I told him. “Come, Catualda. We will speak together, for we finally have a common goal and little time.”
Adalwulf and I took him into a hall.
CHAPTER 16
“He is always sending men to Stone Home,” he said. “Every year.”
“He is a snake,” I said. “And you know it.”
He murmured assent and nodded. He was tired and drunk as he produced a fat, golden ring. It was of a crude make, and he stared at. “It is not Draupnir’s Spawn.”
I laughed. “I can see that.”
He looked unhappy. “You were wrong when you sent me away, that day. Not just any ring would do. It makes sense, Hraban. See, it makes a lot of sense. The real ring was truly special. Is. Do you have it?”
I stretched my back. “Not at the moment.”
He shook his head, stunned. “It is true, then. Your father has it. That is why they are bowing to him. Alas, that he has it. How did he get it from you?” He shook his head sadly. “I have the old blood, but no men to change my luck with. If only I had had that ring…”
I slapped the table and startled him out of his misery. “You know, Catualda, you and I should have a common goal.”
He leaned on his hands and looked at me carefully. “Oh? I know you. I know of you. I have heard plenty of you after you left for Rome. You are not one for peace. You spared your father once, but I doubt out of kindness. And now I am here. I am only here, because everyone knows he wants you dead. Again. Otherwise? I wouldn’t trust you.”
“It wasn’t of kindness I spared him,” I said. “I postponed his death.” I looked at my fingers and thought back on the day. How much simpler would life be had I just killed them all. “He said I had no idea what Rome was like. He said I had no idea what Rome did to him.”
He looked envious. “Did you? Did you discover Rome?”
I smiled tiredly. “I did discover Rome. I discovered many things in Rome, but I liked very few of them. Filth, lies, and promises of riches.”
He cursed softly. “Did you discover riches?”
“I discovered how others get riches,” I said. “But that is none of your business.” I looked at him and realized how h
ard the years had been for him. “You really took that obscure lie of a ring to the Semnones?”
He chortled. “I came to them after some adventures in Inguiomerus’s land. The old bastard had a dim view on strangers. After Sigimer’s death and the cowardly fawning on Rome by Segestes, he barely tolerated being a Cherusci at all. Did you know he played with the thought of becoming a Semnone? Did you?”
I shook my head. I worried about Catualda. The man seemed rattled and odd.
“After that, I went over to the Semnones,” he said. “You have met with Berard, the son of Horsa?”
I nodded. “I have met him. I know of him, more like. I know something about his ways. I know he bows down to many directions, and when you bow to one, you show your arse to another. It is so, and well known.” I shrugged. “Armin needs him. At least Berard should not be allied to Maroboodus.”
He chuckled. “The Semnones and Langobardi are relatives to our kin. The Goths. Suebi. They—”
“I know,” I said.
He smiled. “Yes, of course. “Aye, I consider myself one, though my mother was of the Cherusci stock, of Inguiomerus.”
It was true as well.
He was related to Armin, but Armin wanted no part of him. He had chosen Maroboodus once and then betrayed both, and there he was, old, poor, and staring at a fake of a ring.
And still, he indeed had the same blood as Maroboodus and I.
He spoke on, tired. “It is a magical thing. I know it now. Horsa ever speaks of it, old and feeble. He sees Maroboodus putting a thumb over his son, Berard, and weeps. And yet, for the ring, he dares not disobey. It was ancient artifact, marking the position of one family over the other tribes. The first men! I should be mine. Hulderic was happy to see my…” He went quiet and looked sad.
“Father, Bero,” I said, and felt a stab of sadness. I had liked Bero, and he had died a horrible death when I had helped Father take over the Marcomanni.
Catualda had helped Father betray his own. He seemed to regret it.
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