There, walls painted red greeted us and warm fires. We settled down on a table set near the stables and pulled out our winter gear, until we sat on our chainmail and tunics.
He came in and stared at us with disbelief. He looked at the helmet I placed on the table, at my scarred face, and at Adalwulf’s hard eyes, at our swords and the shields we had rested next to our spears.
“I want no trouble,” he said as he hovered in the stable door. “Not one bit. That packhorse—”
“I told you not to touch it. We want food and drink,” I said. “And we shall pay for it, if we live. Forget the horse.”
He flinched and then he turned his head to the door. He understood we were expecting trouble. I nodded. We had been watched. They were coming. “More guests coming?”
“There will be a king,” I said. “His men. And I suspect, someone else.”
Then, outside, many men arrived. They took their time to dismount.
I steeled myself and prepared for trouble. I watched the doorway leading outside and didn’t so much as blink, as it was opened, and a man filled it.
Father entered.
His red hair was spilling over his bear fur cloak, and his many times broken nose was red with the cold. His eyes were pools of anger, and I matched his looks. He stepped in, and his men followed him. There were ten or more. Many were mercenaries, but some were Quadi and others Marcomanni, and two were tall men I knew would be trouble. They looked at me with cold eyes, with quivering moustaches, and both reminded me of the man who had guarded Cassia.
Sasas.
Of course, the bastards had friends. Relatives? Aye.
They wore long chainmail, and their thick blond hair hung around their shoulders. Their swords were long, and their hands on the hilts.
Sasas. Still he haunts me.
The man I had killed terribly.
The man I had punished Cassia for, where it had been my fault as well.
That Father brought such men there spoke volumes of what was about to happen. Adalwulf was shaking his head as he picked a hair out of his mead.
We were all going to be surprised.
“Son,” he said finally, and pushed aside the mead offered to him by the red nose. It clattered on the floor, and he crashed to a seat next to the doorway, looking at me straight in the eye as his men spread around the hall. His eyes traveled the room “Where are your pack of dogs? You two alone?”
I shrugged. “The old pack of dogs is either dead or scattered to the winds. It seems they still have a conscience. The new pack is busy. To my credit, I tried to disperse the old pack long ago. The new pack knows you well.”
His eyes flashed. He knew of Gochan. Then he smiled tiredly. “You don’t give yourself credit for anything, son. Others do it if you merit it. Gochan. Aye. I know of him. I wasn’t happy Thusnelda tried to hire them to capture you. I guessed it would get complicated. The local scum would have sufficed. Send a woman to do a man’s job, eh? She was so worried for Armin, son. So very worried. She would have done anything to save him. She did much.” He smiled. “And I guess you didn’t bring Gochan, so he would not be in danger. You two have grown close?”
“We play dice together,” I said. “We always tie. We will keep playing.”
He smiled. “I suppose that means you hope to walk out of here as well. You stole Gunhild and Gervas. No matter what we decide here, Hraban, I will not spare you. Donor!”
Donor entered. His face was tired and exhausted, and I knew the terrible wound he had been dealt was still gnawing at him. It would kill him, eventually.
I spat as he came to stand next to Maroboodus.
My father shook his head. “The man came to me, would you imagine. He was tasked to go to Segestes and Segimundus, and even to Thusnelda, but he thought he would find the truth from me. I have, as you know, been in contact with Germanicus. So, I accommodated him. Germanicus told us a story. He sent lips to tell it.”
One of his men flipped back a hood.
Publius.
Publius was there, and his face and ear were terribly scarred. I winked at him and spoke Latin. “Did Germanicus,” I asked, “find you attractive still?” I asked in Latin. “He might prefer an ugly man every now and then.”
He flinched.
Maroboodus laughed and shook his head. “It seems an odd trick was played on Segimundus. It seems you made strange claims to his face, and I filled in the blanks. You had a hand in the whole affair. You made is so that Segimundus is the guard of the flock of sheep, and then you made him a wolf. You lured Germanicus to Mattium. You sneaky shit, eh? You made Armin a great hero. A king of sorrows. That’s why everyone joined him. You gave them a cause for war. Well played, Hraban!”
Publius gnashed his teeth together.
Donor nodded. “I shall go to Armin, and I shall tell him all. You are a corpse.”
I waved my hand to silence him. “So they all think. Then they die. Ah, we are not here to speak of such matters. We are here to plan a war.”
Donor blinked, and Maroboodus frowned. “Dear Hraban. You know I rarely go to war these days. I didn’t for Germanicus. Not yet.”
Publius frowned at the familiar word. He didn’t speak the language.
I nodded. “You didn’t, because you were busy making yourself Semnone and Langobardi. You wanted to broaden your horizons, Father, and to buy time. Tiberius and I hurt you, and you felt betrayed by Livia in the matter of your Roman boy, Postumus.”
Donor was frowning now. “What?”
Maroboodus sat silent for a moment. “Postumus. Remember what I did. I knew he would never come home. I sold him for my kingdom. And did you know that Tiberius killed him. Him and Julia, both. They say Julia was sick, and Postumus choked on bread, but I know what he did. The new Augustus must do what he must.” He choked at the words and sat still.
I nodded. We knew. He saw in my face shame, for I had betrayed both Julia and Postumus. I had loved the former, in some odd way, and the latter had been my half-brother whom I had respected.
“I feel it too, Hraban,” he said. “I feel the guilt. It is my companion and walks with me, awake, or asleep.”
I nodded and leaned back to lean on the wall. “It is our common friend.”
Augustus, Julia, Postumus.
Livia yet lived.
Would Tiberius truly keep his word to me?
Maroboodus smiled brutally, knowing what I was thinking. “I know the game, Hraban. I know what you are doing. Imagine, I asked it of you, thinking you are my sword. But you are not. You are his. And now you are doing to the son of Drusus what I did to him? Hah!”
Publius had the blank, bored look on his face. Donor was frowning and looking at Maroboodus with confusion.
Maroboodus lifted his hand and shook his head. “Aye, Hraban. Here it is. This meeting will have several interesting outcomes. Donor shall go and break Armin’s heart. He shall go and take my greetings to Armin. Germanicus must die. I know why. I know Tiberius has more legions than he does. I have seen his war now, and he is hard pressed to destroy Armin, so could he destroy Tiberius? Even with my help?” He shook his head. “I doubt it. I will do what Tiberius wishes. But I will want things. I know my Gunhild is lost to me. I know they shall hold her bastard in Rome anyway. That one has your blood, Gunhild’s, that of Aristovistus. Cenric.” The son Gunhild had had with Burlein was heavy on his mind. “And my son, the one you stole and gave to Tiberius,” he said darkly, making Donor gasp with some understanding on my depravity, “is lost. I will help the north. I will help your true master. I will fight for and with Armin.”
He looked at Donor and nodded to the doorway. “Wait outside.”
“King—”
“Wait outside!”
The man stiffened and stepped out. There, Maroboodus’s men stepped on each side of him and closed the door. Maroboodus watched the door for a moment.
“He is grateful,” I said. “Armin shall leave the land after Germanicus—”
“Shit, I don’t
believe it.” He laughed. “Neither do you. You were meant to kill him after Germanicus? I am guessing that is so. I shall, instead. Do not worry about that. I shall take over, indeed.”
I smiled. “I suppose that means I will be occupied elsewhere?”
He roared with laughter and nodded. “You know, when Germanicus asked for my help to catch you, I was happy to. I sent Thusnelda a request and told her Armin will never be aided by me and mine, if you are not given over. Do not hate her. She thought about it for a long time, for I think she likes you in many ways. She knows you are a shifty bastard, but I also let her know you never served a man without pulling them to ruin. She finally had him, Armin. It was too much to think she might lose him. She agreed.” He shook his head. “What you did to her, and how you made Armin that much more powerful. You have my respect, Hraban.”
I smiled and felt sick. “Thank you.”
“Cassia,” he said sadly, “I felt bad for. Germanicus and his requests. He wanted my men to send him you, your son, and wife. Lover, he meant, but wife, if you had one. He has twisted fantasies, humps everything that moves, and couldn’t possibly believe you would not immediately remarry. He would pay huge sum of gold for each.” He smiled. “Gunda. There was something odd about that whole affair.” He was frowning and thinking. “It involved insulting Segimundus. Why would the Chatti.…” He smiled. “It matters little. After I destroy Armin, I will turn on the Chatti. I think you have played a very dangerous game, and alas, it is over now.”
He looked at the two Sarmatians and Publius. “My two men will take your hands, and Germanicus gets both. Just so you know, Hraban, I asked you all to be sent to me first, and I would not have sent Gervas to them. It wasn’t his fault. He would have had place with me.”
He had wanted my son, still.
But not Gunda. She would have suffered.
“I see,” I said. “No.”
“No?” he laughed. “No what?”
“You wanted me here,” I said. “You wanted me so that I would take you to Godsmount. You have been boasting about a certain ring, and you have it not. It must have been embarrassing when it showed up in Stone Home in Catualda’s finger. That is why you do not mention it now. You know I don’t have it.”
His face went red as burning coals. His hands grasped his bench, and he stood up, angry as a wounded badger. “You.”
I nodded. “I went to Godsmount. Didn’t Donor tell you? He, of course, knows nothing of our troublesome past and of the Woden’s ring.” I looked deep into his eyes. “Here is what we shall do, Father. I accept your offer to join Armin. Tiberius will appreciate it. He might even release your son, for why would he deprive his client king the offspring that will keep the land serving Rome, eh? And you shall take your damned men and deny them my hands. You will not deal with Germanicus in any way, and you shall forgo sending me to him. You shall forget Adalwulf as well. You will let me deal with Armin. And if you do, you will get a great reward. What you always desired. Catualda has been growing in influence and power this past year in Stone Home. I recalled him month ago. He came to me for consultations.”
Adalwulf got up and walked to the stables.
We waited, and he came in, dragging a bundle of furs, and in them, was Catualda, tied, gagged, and horrified. I had promised him much, the throne of Maroboodus, and now, he stared his nemesis in the eye, shaking.
They had betrayed Bero together.
They had used me. They had both caused Hulderic and Sigilind’s deaths.
Let Father eat him, I said to myself, and the guilt drained away.
“Refuse. I shall keep the ring,” I told Father, “and I shall personally move to the Semnones and take them over. I will be rid of Horsa’s boy, Berard, and Langobardi Alberich, and I will make war on you and yours, the ring in my hand. And if I die here, Berard will be sent the ring. Gochan will go to him, and as he has your blood, you shall find him a hard man to break. He is not like you or me. He killed my sister, your daughter, for broken oaths, for trying to take me to you.”
He stared at me with calm, serious look.
“Aye, a daughter,” I said. “Borena. You have heard of your son, but not of your daughter. She was a fine warrior. Just rotten, like you and I. Thusnelda hired the best, eh?”
I stepped over Catualda, and for the doorway. He didn’t move. “Kill Donor, Father. And kill Publius. Can’t risk it. He might know our language, eh? And come to Armin next year. Come and fight for him, and for Tiberius, and forget Gervas. When Germanicus is dead, you will get the ring, and then you and I shall part ways for good. I pardon you, Father. I shall not kill you.”
No. He wouldn’t die.
He spoke softly. “Yes.”
I would do far worse to him.
I smiled. “That is good, Father. You will serve Tiberius still, and Armin for a while, and perhaps one day, you can be a brave Germani king who follows his own way. Perhaps I will see it before I die of old age.”
His face went white with shock, and then he looked at Catualda, then at Publius, and waved us out. Adalwulf and I walked out, past bewildered Donor, and the pug nose man came to bring us our horses.
He smiled at us gratefully as I paid him with Roman silver, though, of course, he would die too.
We rode to north, to Armin with good news, and the burning tavern’s light lit our way.
CHAPTER 24
(Idistaviso, A.D.16)
The army was heaving to sight across the river.
The Romans were coming in great strength. Germanicus had again braved the northern sea and sailed down the River Visurgis. On that way, they had claimed Chauci to join their army.
Four legions had marched north from Moganticum and down Luppia way, past Alisio, past Castra Flamma.
Thirty auxilia cohorts had joined them in the march, and they had met the Chauci and Xanten legions near Cherusci borders. There, they had marched to Segestes’s former lands and down the rivers until they found Armin near his burned Black Lodge, hailing them and daring them to fight.
The battle would take place on a plain, in Idistaviso, on the east bank of Visurgis, south of the Black Lodge, on a fertile field of wheat, surrounded by a bend of the river and forests, around a hill in the middle of that field.
There would be no more surprises. None, save for the one that would kill him.
My father.
“Will he cross?” Adalwulf wondered as we watched the Usipetes mocking the Roman army across one of the few good fords in the land.
I turned to looked south.
The river ran southeast, but made a bend to west there, miles and miles long. A hill rose in the middle of the huge field of wheat, and the deep woods spread an eternity to the east.
“He cannot resist,” I said.
He nodded. “I hope so, and I also don’t. It looks like a place to die in. Your father had better deliver on his oaths.”
He was right. It was a place to die in.
There were eight legions standing across the river, with their thousands of mules, servants, and siege gear. That was some thirty thousand legionnaires, half veterans, half new recruits, Rome had sent with terrible expense. There were nearly twenty thousand auxilia as well, a third of the Chauci.
We would draw them over the river and they would turn right and deploy before us. They would see the massive army, nearly forty thousand strong. They would see the standards of Bructeri, Ampsivarii, Marsi, Sigambri, the Chatti and the Cherusci, Tubantes, Usipetes, and Tencteri drawn across the field, and they would see the thick line running from the river, before the bend, over the hill to the woods.
They would see much of the army had the river behind their backs.
No, they would not resist. They would come at us.
What they didn’t see was Maroboodus and his thirty thousand Marcomanni, Boii, Quadi, Hermanduri, and mercenaries, many trained to fight like the Romans did. Rome would scout the woods, and Germanicus would be suspicious, Caecina cautious, but could they afford to let Armin
slip away to the night, to miss the opportunity to catch us with our backs to the river?
No.
We will kill their scouts. We will have Fortuna on our side, finally.
I watched Armin and his men, standing on that hill to the south. I watched the tribes, howling at Rome. I got cold shivers running down my spine and part of it was for…pride.
I was proud of them.
Every tribe was on that field today. Some on the enemy side, but most on ours.
The latter were free, they were united, and Armin, his Summer Sword on his side, reminding them of victory, would be remembered forever. That he would die, and Rome would rule through weak men, meant nothing. One day, the wild Germani tribes from the north would follow Armin. Men would remember, even if Rome held sway over the land for centuries. Adelings would sing the songs, vitka and völva would hide in the woods and speak of the hero.
That I told myself, so that the deception would not be as unbearable as it was.
If only Gervas could see them. Wulf.
Adalwulf was smiling. I begged gods he would survive his mad drive for glory. He had men again, a hundred and more. All shared his dreams.
I had my brother, and his hundred. Many had returned to battle, even wounded. Gochan was staring at the great sea of standards, praying to his fire god.
Not many would survive the day.
We hid in the tall grass and wheat, five thousand select men, and waited.
Rome had stopped. Their men were coming to the ford, and some had crossed it and ridden back.
Those some had been from the 2nd Batavorium, an ala I had served in.
I begged the Batavi would go away on some other mission. There had been rebellions against Rome amongst their own northern allies, and with the Ampsivarii and Chauci as well.
“Let them be Ubii, Vangiones, or Norica,” I said. I could see all those auxilia on the other side.
I saw suspicious movement, and men working near the river’s edge.
There were legions ready to construct bridges. Others were resting.
Rome would come over.
It would send its cavalry across to secure the river. Then, it would ford it, for the water was not high there. They would build many bridges, fast as beavers, to bring over all their gear, to make sure they had a way out and in. There would be castra to guard them.
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