The Summer Sword

by Alaric Longward

  Adgandestrius flinched at the power in Armin’s voice and pointed his finger back towards east. “He…they had rebuilt Drusus’s forts in the lands of the Matticati. They came from Moganticum, through the lands of the Matticati, and build castra in the heights of the Matticati. Old castra of the great Drusus. The hills were filled with Roman legions. They deployed all four of those legions, and Germanicus himself led his men to our lands. It is burning. Every major town in the west part of our land is gone! Cattle has been stolen, there are looted halls, and slaves taken!”

  “The people?” asked Armin, horrified. “They—"

  “They fled, most were warned in time,” Adgandestrius said. “Germanicus! He tried to take the fight to the helpless ones.” He was weeping. “Terrible sights, they say, in those lands he passed, and our cities…at least our men live and fight.”

  Armin was shaking his head, and then he saw Adgandestrius was not done. “What else?”

  He closed his eyes. Armin looked at the troops that were marching past, and they were all looking at him, tears in their eyes. Rumors were spreading and being told on.

  Only he didn’t know what had taken place.

  “Segimundus,” Adgandestrius whispered. “Germanicus—”

  “Where is Germanicus?” roared Armin, pulling Adgandestrius close to his face. “What are you saying?”

  “He betrayed you,” he said. “He heard of Germanicus being so close, and he sent word to Germanicus. Libys, a traitor, vitka, took it forth. He told Germanicus he would give back many standards of the legions, and Segestes, and…just to be allowed back to Rome.”

  “And what?” Armin roared. “Where is my wife?”

  Adgandestrius wept. “She is captured. She is taken to Germanicus with her father and brother, and Germanicus is marching home through the land of the Sigambri. He is carrying loot, recaptured standards—”

  “I piss on the standards! I piss on them!” Armin roared. “Thusnelda! My unborn child!”

  We were silent, as Armin wept.

  The army and adelings watched, and it was a moment all Germani spoke of later and mourned for hundred years. It was a moment of greatest sorrow, a tale of craven traitors, a story of a captured princess, and a tale of sorrow so terrible, the gods themselves wept to hear it.

  Armin suffered, riding around on his horse, howling and roaring.

  Men walked away from him, eyes downcast. They walked to the sides and went to their knees, giving soft oaths to aid him, to serve him.

  He heard none of them.

  Instead, he suddenly pulled his horse around. He left with this Cherusci, with the Chatti, and left Caecina and his plans. He led his men and the entire army to pursue Germanicus.

  Caecina, hearing the news, withdrew. The auxilia did as well.

  Armin led us on a furious, deadly march after his enemy.

  And he didn’t catch him.

  Late that month, looking at Xanten, where legions paraded and Segestes was greeted a hero by Rome, he watched them all and wept.

  When he finally left the shore of Rhenus, he was a king, finally. Not a tribe thought of him as a hero, but a king they all must revenge.

  He camped there near Rhenus and waited for a miracle.

  Woden was out of them.

  CHAPTER 19

  (Before Xanten, A.D. 15, June 15th)

  The news spread like wildfire on a dry plain.

  Segestes’s craven treason knew no bounds.

  Segimundus’s cowardice was lamented from the northern seas to the streets of Rome. Germanicus’s words to his Germani allies; worthless, the deed was frowned on by even his legates. Men were singing their songs of lament, even those grievously wounded in the battles against Caecina. There were tens of thousands of Germani in the land of the Tencteri, in the woods and the fields, and they were all dreaming of revenge and giving holy oaths to follow a man who wasn’t of their tribe.

  They had a king. A tragic, great king.

  The west part of the Chatti homelands had been burned, a deed never before seen. The four legions of Germanicus had gained an easy victory, having to fight nothing, and they had not killed many and had left almost empty-handed.

  Caecina had gained little.

  And still, the year had been excellent for Germanicus.

  Segimundus and his men had given Germanicus a mighty gift.

  All this one could hear in the songs the poets and the best of the song-spinners sang in the many camps.

  Armin, fey, grim and almost deadly to those who annoyed him, was silent and brooding, and he didn’t sleep. No jotun could ever fire up Donor as terribly as a simple mistake did Armin. The smallest thing might push him into a rage that could engulf the worlds and leave men in tears.

  His wife? His son?

  Germanicus had them.

  Germanicus the Cruel, whom the spies claimed had treated her with uncommon respect, after Segestes had begged him on his knees for mercy, held Thusnelda. The pregnant princess, heavy with a child, was helpless in enemy hands, and no matter how terrible the situation, the Germani could not retake her.

  Some men had crossed the river, hoping to recapture Thusnelda

  None had returned.

  Germanicus knew they were there, the Germani and Armin. He knew it and enjoyed their impotent rage. He knew I was there, for I had not been in Mattium. It must have frustrated him terribly.

  It made me smile, the thought.

  Germanicus could see the army camping and waiting and knew he had fed them despair. He saw the thick columns of the Chauci, twelve to fifteen thousand strong, the northern warriors bewilderingly many as they joined Armin that day, and nothing could be done to reverse his victory.

  We were running out of supplies.

  So, it fell on the least-liked adeling to try to fathom what Armin would want.

  I was told I by Helm I would have to do it, and I did.

  I rode forward that day and watched the land across the river. I found Armin as he stood not far, his hand on his famous sword’s hilt, his beard quivering, and eyes filled with tears. Thus, might a wolf cry, fangs bared, and still full of sorrow for his lost mate.

  We stood thus, I, on a horse, he, standing on a mossy stone, listening to the waves of the great Rhenus River as the water made its eternal way to the sea. Many sorrows had it seen, and Armin’s was not the least of them.

  He was hoping to see her.

  She was kept hidden.

  I finally spoke and risked his wrath. “They say,” I ventured, “that the supplies won’t last. Tencteri are generous as Frigg herself, but they have little. Their land was burned to crisp last year. We must go back.”

  “Back,” he said, breaking his silence. “Back to where?”

  To whom, he meant, and I didn’t let it slip past.

  “To your hall,” I said.

  “I have no hall,” he answered bitterly. “If I had one, it would be cold and empty.” He looked up at me, his eyes red. “Like yours were, after Cassia died.”

  I shifted to look down at him, to reason with him. “Your hall can be built anywhere, Armin, and she is not going to be there. To that hall, nonetheless, you must go. They will all follow you now. Without a question, they shall. They’ll eat out of your hands, and you shall be mighty. You will be a better king than any. You will be a king they fear and pity, and whom the masses love over their adelings. The adelings know this, and they don’t care, for they love you better than ever. It won’t be forgotten, the theft of Thusnelda. Your heroic deeds are well known, but now? You have a real cause.”

  “A woman is the cause,” he murmured with spite. “A lost queen.”

  “Aye,” I said. “That it is. The Greeks went to war for one, once. Treason and a lost queen is what they see, and your sadness and bravery reminds men of why they fight. Victory over Varus was a victory. It was done and over with. They would fight, but obey? This is different. This is a feud to last for centuries. They will fight to avenge her. They will avenge a tragic loss, even
men who cannot see it, a generation or two from now. They see their sad king, their King of Tears, and they will never forget. They know what Rome is capable of now, if they didn’t know it before. You must—”

  “I must nothing!” he screamed. “Why do you think I did everything for? For you? For the adelings? Nay, I did it all for her!”

  He held his face, and I quieted. I let him weep.

  Then I spoke in a brutal and harsh tone. “Nay. You did it for you. Her as well, aye, but mainly for you. You thought you would rule, because only you had the great vision, what we could all be. Now you have a chance. The sacrifice must not be in vain.”

  He pulled the Summer Sword and ran at me.

  I sat still on my horse as he roared and hesitated below me. Then he roared again and swung the weapon and struck my horse’s neck. We fell in a heap of quivering horseflesh, and I rolled free. I stood still, watched him as he kept hacking at the carcass, and he did it until the horse was in pieces, bone and meet spread around us. His face and arms were covered blood, and his eyes were furious pits of white peeking through.

  He shivered and shook and leaned on his blade.

  “How,” he snarled. “How can I get her back?”

  “You get her back,” I said bitterly, “by submitting to Rome. You’ll see her in a triumph where Germanicus rides a chariot after you. Or, you make peace with Rome, and you have to win the war first.”

  No. It would not suffice, but there was fool’s hope in his eyes.

  I spoke on. “You need more eagles capture, and you need more blood. After that? After you kill or even take Germanicus, Tiberius will likely deal with you as an equal.”

  “Take Germanicus,” he whispered. “Fool. You fool. He cannot—”

  “You must defeat him, and you must kill him,” I said simply. “Then, give Tiberius peace. Trade you for her but leave Germania victorious. Your son will continue your work. Germania will remember you for centuries, and they will listen to your call from beyond the grave. Ride back from here, a heartbroken king whom your enemies ran from, Armin, and none shall deny you the right to rule them. We love such stories, do we not.” I stepped forward. “To get her back, you must defeat Rome. You can, now.”

  He staggered back and walked away.

  I stood there, staring at yet another horse I had lost, and Adalwulf came to me. He was watching Armin’s depart, and nodding. “We have a kingdom. They all speak of him as their lord. Adelings are going to bow to him and made life-oaths.”

  “Alas it had to be done,” I said. “Poor Thusnelda.”

  “Hail unity,” he answered, and we went to find me a horse. He spoke softly and rubbed his face as we walked. “Gods help us. It is not all our fault. Had not Thusnelda tried to help your father and had she not trusted the promises of Maroboodus to leave Armin be, if only she hadn’t hired Borena, this would not have happened. It would not have had to be her.”

  I nodded and closed my eyes. “No. It had to be her, no matter what she tried to do to me. That is was her only made it easier.”

  He looked sick. “When we spoke of this plan in Rome, to make ourselves Roman, Tiberius our lord, we had no idea how filthy it was. We are not like Maroboodus, after all. Wulf and Gervas are better off elsewhere,” he said. “I know not if I can see it through.”

  “I will,” I said. “And then, none shall harm our boys again and everyone has been avenged. Alas for Thusnelda. Alas for all of them. Now, Armin has a chance to win. I will make Tiberius happy, Cassia smile, and gods help us, but we must defeat Germanicus.”

  He nodded. “I will aid you. But while I do, I will take an Aquila, and I shall send it to Wulf and clean some of my name and conscience.”

  He rode off.

  Thusnelda. Poor Thusnelda.

  Borena had told me what I had suspected.

  It was no chance Thusnelda had set me up with them. She had set them up around me, and I had used them, and guarded myself until they were part of my family, part of me. I had hoped some would forget their plans. I had misread Borena’s honor. I had used them, and they me, and though Ourbazo had renegaded from his sisters and tried to take me to Germanicus alone, they might have succeeded.

  Thusnelda had given herself up.

  She had lamented the sorrow of Maroboodus. None knew of it. Maroboodus told people Gunhild was with relatives, not in Rome.

  Maroboodus had told her.

  Also, she had said Armin knew of the Sarmatians. Armin told me Segimundus had learned of them, so it had been Thusnelda. Desperate for men to help her, she had bet Borena in the den of the scum and made her deals there. Then, she had set me up with them, while using me to topple Segestes.

  I had been hard pressed to solve the many threats to us and the issue of Armin’s weakness while serving Tiberius.

  The Chatti had been the key to many things.

  The oldest of the nations and most respected after the Cherusci and the Chauci, they had suffered greatly for Rome. Their Ebbe and Oldaric both had died to Drusus’s swords and deceits, and now the son of Drusus was back with new war. They had not been willing to bow to Armin, though.

  I had gone to the Chatti. I had gone to them and spoken to them of a common cause, and when they had listened to me, they had agreed. They helped me make Armin a true king. It had been all about Segimundus and Gunda and it had worked out well. They would aid Armin in war and see Germanicus dead, for Ebbe and Oldaric. They would perform one other duty for the Chatti survival later.

  They would be Armin’s enemy. They would strike hard.

  A burning of Mattium, luring Germanicus so close to Segimundus had been a small price to pay. People had fled. Nothing really had been lost.

  Gunda had been the surprise.

  For me.

  I had not expected to love. I had not expected happiness on the dark road.

  Poor Thusnelda.

  There she had been happy, in the Black Lodge, while Segimundus, always aware of his weaknesses saw enemies around him. He saw how terrible a foe I was. He hated me for years. Then he heard from Catualda of a conspiracy, and felt his weakness throttling him. He heard me mocking him, and promising to take his wife, again, and also his position. I had had Libys talk to Rhamis ever after my marriage to Gunda, slowly poisoning her and Adgandestrius, and she, with the vitka, had begged him to take her to safety from me, to Segestes, and when Romans arrived so close, Segimundus had agreed. He had had Libys send Germanicus a message, inviting Rome in, and Segimundus, the coward, had done what I had expected.

  He had given Germanicus Thusnelda. He had taken Rhamis, whom Aerumer sacrificed for the good of the Chatti.

  I felt sick as I thought about it.

  I would have given Rome Thusnelda myself, just to punish her for what she did to me. I would have done it even if she hadn’t. Segimundus just had been convenient fool.

  She was the key to Armin’s power.

  Had it not been Helen why the Greeks gathered to fight? Is not a fallen queen a reason for men to rally to a banner? Not Armin. Not his sword.

  Thusnelda.

  It had been hard. I had had to take risks and make everything work together. I had lost people. I had abandoned the plan to send Gervas to Rome, for Tiberius was not as benevolent as he had claimed.

  Still, we would work on.

  Thank gods for Hands, Catualda, and Woden, for we had succeeded. Even Maroboodus was tethered for now. His lies were exposed to the Semnones and the Langobardi.

  They had all tried to fool the chosen of Woden, the man who would not be fooled again, never a victim again, and he had fooled them.

  I felt empty for those victories. But Gunda had given me back hope and will to live.

  There was one more deed I had to do in Germania. I had to kill Germanicus. I had to see him fall to disgrace, and death. Then, later, Armin would die.

  It had been arranged.

  I would find Ulrich.

  And if gods were gracious, and Tiberius happy and would let me go, I would find Gervas,
Wulf, and others, and I would try to heal.

  I might, one day, manage to breathe free again, an old man, and tell stories of my mistakes.

  Later, that afternoon, we marched east, back to the lands of the Marsi, and in July, Armin was waiting for his enemy, while he took oaths from new adelings, new families, and new people.

  The Summer Sword was held by the King of Tears, and Germania would fight like it had never fought before.

  Germanicus would die to sword and spear, no matter what Veleda thought.

  I had to fight a war against my conscience.

  BOOK 4: THE SUMMER TEARS

  “Let it take years. Let there be a civil war in Rome. In the meantime, I shall do what Armin tried to do. I want to be the Summer Sword of the Germani, the terrible king of the north, bane of summers and the bear that only sleeps in the winters.”

  Maroboodus to Hraban

  CHAPTER 20

  That year, the harvest was collected by slaves, old men, young boys, and what women remained in their halls. The Germani struggled to feed the great army of Armin.

  Yet, feed it they did.

  And the enemy didn’t move.

  Speculatores were scouting, strange men were nosing around the land, but no army came moved.

  Until Germanicus tossed the dice and nearly won.

  In a camp along the Luppia River, and the springs of it, Roman camps were under siege. Alisio was yet again being starved by Germani, and I was leading that siege. In that camp, guarded by Sarmatian riders, I watched the women provide for the men, and I drank to drown my sorrow.

  I sat in rain. It had been raining heavily for weeks.

  Things were as well as they could be, despite the rain. And yet, I was tired and felt unable to rise up and fight the war.

  Where the tribes were speaking of Armin’s bravery on the face of such calamities, and of the Chatti homelands having been burned down, and of the heroics of the tribes against Caecina, I was thinking about our crimes, and choices.

  Thusnelda.