He gestured to an oathsworn, who handed Vlad a small chest. The Venedi opened it, revealing gold coins. By this time Vlad could hardly believe his good fortune, smiling from ear to ear.
Vlad was a king in his own way, but not nearly as powerful as the iudex of the mighty Thervingi. Yet, his station was recognised so he spoke. “My people will have peace with the Thervingi, King Kniva. We will trade and prosper.”
Kniva nodded in recognition of his words. “Go with the gods, King Vlad. Our people will have peace. The Heruli will escort you home to ensure your safety.”
We clasped arms with Vlad, bidding him farewell. The wild king of the swamps left with his newfound wealth. He would take his people home.
When he was out of earshot, Kniva said: “I don’t trust the Venedi, nor the Fenni. Roudolphos, make sure they don’t raid Gothic settlements on their way home.” The big Heruli nodded and left to attend to his appointed task.
Kniva turned to the Greuthungi war leader. “I am grateful to my father-in-law for his assistance, Guntharic.”
Kniva grinned, then sighed deeply. “And I am sure that you had to provide payment in kind, Eochar. What oath did you give on my behalf?”
Since we were in the presence of his underlings as well as the Greuthungi, I replied formally. “Lord Kniva, I had to pledge your assistance in return, should it be called on by Lord Ostrogotha.”
“Is that all?”
“No, lord, I had to provide my own oath of assistance as well”, I replied.
He frowned then, looking at Guntharic, who shifted uncomfortably. “Lord Ostrogotha is a wise man. He recognises Lord Eochar’s, er… talents. He believes that Lord Eochar walks with Teiwaz.”
He nodded. “Leave us, Guntharic of the Greuthingi. You have done well. We will feast tonight, then all depart on the morrow.”
The big Goth inclined his scarred head, his blonde braids falling around his armoured shoulders. He turned on his heel and left.
“Primus Pilus Hostilius. As always, you were in the thick of the action. Not only are you a formidable hunter, but your name is spoken with fear and respect in the halls of the Goths. You have become a man of reputation.”
Hostilius rarely grinned, but he did so then.
He spoke passable Goth and said: “Thank you, lord. You are not so bad for Goth as well.”
Coming from anybody else, it would have been a huge insult to the Gothic iudex, but he knew the ironhard Primus Pilus well and recognised the compliment, which was rarely issued.
“I am honoured by your words, Primus Pilus.”
He produced a vicious-looking dagger with an ivory handle. The blade was pattern welded and contained strange writing symbols, the ancient magic runes of the gods. “This is the dagger that belonged to Adosinda. It is said to have been made by the dwarfs of Svartalfheim. It was brought to this land by my ancestors, from the ice islands of the north. It is called Dragontooth. Now it is yours.”
Hostilius was visibly moved. He nodded, reverently accepting the dagger, handling it like a mother would a babe.
“Leave us now, Primus Pilus”, he said. Hostilius left with a grin, eager to play with his new toy.
On Kniva’s signal, an oathsworn warrior handed us both a horn of ale. His men left the hall to afford us the chance to speak in private.
“Adosinda broke his oath to me. Sadly, it cost him his life and that of his family.”
I nodded. It was brutal, but it was the way of the Goths.
“You did well, brother. I was foolish not to suspect a plot. Adosinda had sent most of his warriors north and east nearly a moon ago to investigate so-called incursions into his lands. He did it deliberately, to enable the savages to trap us in this fort. I admit, it was a clever ploy.”
“Fortuna was on our side, Kniva, else I would never have discovered the plot.”
He grinned his boyish grin. “I think that it was Teiwaz.”
We spoke and drank ale for a full watch while lounging on the furs next to the hearth fire.
Before I departed he said: “I need to appoint a new lord and receive the oaths of the warriors who are yet to return. You should return to my sister and enjoy your family. I owe you much.”
“Brother, you rode with me when the Arab killed my father. You gave me sanctuary. You owe me naught.”
I clasped his arm and returned to my comrades, eager to go home.
Chapter 7 – Golden flowers
Marcus and Vibius had each received a magnificent Gothic longsword from Kniva as a gesture of his appreciation. The swords were tied to their saddles
Hostilius smirked. “Cheap bloody pieces of iron. That’s all they are.”
He drew his dagger from the ornate scabbard he had somehow managed to acquire. “Now this is a work of art. Not some iron slab beat flat by half drunk barbarians.”
Marcus scowled, but Vibius was curious. “What do the markings on the blade mean, Primus Pilus?”
“How in Hades should I know, Decurion? Do I look like a bloody Heruli?”
He did resemble the Heruli and I was sure that Vibius was about to point it out to Hostilius, and I felt compelled to interject, in order to keep the peace. “It reads ‘I am the blade of Teiwaz’”, I lied.
Hostilius smirked, now satisfied, while Marcus rolled his eyes. Kniva had told me that the dagger was indeed ancient and revered, but the inscription meant ‘the one who tries’.
It was Marcus who changed the subject.
“What would you do if the Goths called on your oath of assistance?”
“I would honour my oath, of course”, I replied.
“And what if they campaign against Rome?”
I answered with a question. “Rome murdered my father. Rome tried to kill us. Rome sent us away after we saved them from defeat against the Sasanians at Rhasaina. In our hour of need, Kniva helped us by giving us sanctuary. Would you not fight for the Goths against the people who had wronged us?”
He offered no answer. Not for a while at least.
“I do not believe that the people of Rome wronged us, Lucius. I lay the blame at the feet of Philip the Arab and his despicable brother.”
I wanted to answer but he was not done and he held up his hand. “Yes, I would fight for Kniva against the Arab, not for the Goths against Rome.”
“Is it not the same?”
I could see that this was a serious issue for Marcus. “For me, it is not the same”, he said. “It is how I would be able to live with myself.”
I understood.
“Marcus, it is but talk. Rome and the Goths have an agreement, a treaty of peace. The Goths get paid an annual tribute. They will not break their agreement. Even the Arab would not be that stupid.”
That was what I thought at the time. I was soon to be proven wrong.
* * *
We arrived at our new home four days after leaving the former lands of Adosinda the Goth.
Egnatius’s eye appeared in the peep-hole in the gate. A heartbeat later the gate swung open and as always, the oldster came to attention.
“Welcome home, Tribunes. Welcome Primus Pilus, Decurion”, he said and saluted smartly.
“At ease, legionary”, I said, now used to the roleplay.
We rounded the corner where Aritê came running to me with Little Nik hot on her heels. I noticed that Little Nik was not that little anymore as I scooped up my daughter in an embrace. The wolf growled, eyeing me with suspicion.
“Little Nik missed you a lot”, she said, although I doubted it, based on his demeanour. His growl deepened, so I put her down. It proved to be effective, as Little Nik relaxed immediately.
“I missed you too, Aritê. Let’s go find your mother.” She pulled me towards the hall by my hand. The wolf seemed to have made peace with my presence and was sniffing my boots.
Segelinde appeared in the doorway of the hall. She ran to me and I hugged her close, lifting her from her feet. The wolf growled.
“No, Little Nik”, was all she had to say to stop t
he growling. He skulked away and lay down at her feet.
“Your brother is well, which is more than I can say for the conniving Lord Adosinda.” Segelinde sighed with relief.
“Come”, she said, and took me into the hall where Cai was teaching Adelgunde to read.
I inclined my head to greet Cai and he said: “Only back now? Took longer than I thought.”
My wife looked at Adelgunde and said: “They are back. I saw them all, over by their hall.”
Adelgunde smiled and left the hall with Aritê in tow while my wife handed me a horn of ale.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “So, what was that all about?”
Adelgunde had become close to my family, not unlike an adopted daughter.
She scowled and shook her head. “Men are truly blind. Have you not noticed that Adelgunde has an interest in Hostilius? Have you not seen how she looks at him?” My jaw dropped and I stared at her blankly. “Hostilius?” I responded with a slight smile.
“He is a hard man. A killer. One of the meanest bastards I know. And Adelgunde is only… she can’t be older than twenty-two summers?”
Segelinde placed her hands on her hips. Which did not bode well for me.
“Killer. Hard man. Bastard. Messenger of the war god. Does it sound familiar to you?”
“Yes, but… ”
“But nothing! You will not interfere. They are only friends. For now, anyway. Don’t ruin it for them before it starts. Hostilius is a gentle, kind-hearted man.”
To hear the name of my friend associated with words like ‘kind’ and ‘gentle’ almost caused me to choke on the ale and burst out laughing. Applying more than a little self-restraint, I managed to avert my exile from our hall.
“Of course I will not interfere. Whatever makes them happy.” She narrowed her eyes and issued a muted high pitched yelp.
“Go outside, Eochar. You are infested with lice and fleas!”
She added as an afterthought: “And don’t go near Aritê or Little Nik. You will infect them too.”
I complied. It was Cai who came to the rescue.
“Aritê go with Egnatius to pick pretty flowers. We grow them on farm back in Sirmium. I plant seeds when we arrive.”
I scowled. “I don’t need to smell nice, Cai. I need to get rid of the lice.”
“You help me, Lucius of the Da Qin. No complain, just help.”
Later I watched with interest as he crushed the heap of flowers to a pulp in a wooden bowl. He sent a servant to prepare a bath and added half the flower paste to the hot water. “Why only half?” I queried.
He held out the remaining half. “This for centurion Hostilius”, he said.
He held up a flower by the stem. It was pure white, with a golden centre. “Greeks call this ‘golden flower’. Bathe now. You see.”
I bathed for at least half a watch, dunking my head underneath the water many times while holding my breath.
When I finally left the bath, I could see dead lice on the surface of the water.
I donned a clean tunic and Cai announced my arrival at the hall. “Husband clean. I go deal with kind-hearted Primus Pilus now.”
Chapter 8 – Oathbreaker (Jan 245 AD)
The cold of winter did not stop the blossoming affection between the Primus Pilus and Adelgunde. As instructed, I did not interfere. That is, until I was asked to.
Hostilius and I were out hunting, on his insistence. I could see that he wanted to tell me something, but that he had difficulty putting it into words.
Eventually, after riding in silence for long, he said out of the blue: “Adelgunde really is a nice girl, Lucius.”
“Yes, Primus Pilus, I agree. She is like a daughter to me.”
I must have said the wrong thing, for my words were followed by another extended period of silence.
I realised over time that Segelinde had been correct. When it came to women, Hostilius was kind and soft-spoken, but in male company he was quick to anger.
“For Jupiter’s sake, Domitius, don’t act like you’re a bloody fool!”
I grinned. Just like a fool would.
“Adelgunde and I will be getting married”, he said. “And you are going to help me make it happen.”
“Of course, Primus Pilus, I will have it no other way”, I replied. “Why didn’t you just say so from the start?”
“Because you’ve known all along and you didn’t encourage me. I thought that you disapproved.”
I waved it away and took ownership of my wife’s advice. “I just didn’t wish to interfere.”
His whole demeanour softened. “There really is a gentle side to you, Domitius. I would never have thought that a hard-arsed killer like you can be compassionate.”
In any event, an ecstatic Segelinde suggested that we play the role of Adelgunde’s parents since she was an orphan for all practical purposes.
During the month that followed, our house was abuzz with women seeing to arrangements. I developed a sudden affinity for hunting, leaving the women to their quest.
On one of these excursions I was accompanied by Marcus, Vibius as well as a somewhat nervous Hostilius.
“How come you seem nervous, Centurion?” Marcus asked. “I have seen you standing in the front rank with thousands of Sasanian heavy cavalry charging. You appeared less flustered then.”
Hostilius scowled. “It is cheap words for a man not yet bound to a woman.”
He was looking for allies and added: “Tell him, Domitius.”
I grinned. “True words, Primus Pilus. I would rather charge the Hun horde than face my wife when she is angry.”
Segelinde had explained to me what would be required in terms of the wedding ceremony.
I half-turned in the saddle to face Hostilius.
“In this part of the world, the husband is expected to present a dowry to the wife”, I said.
“I assume you mean jewellery, dresses and coin. The stuff women would want, eh?” he asked, with a desperate look about him.
“No Primus Pilus, not at all. The dowry is supposed to consist of horses and oxen. The horses are to be fully kitted out with saddles and the necessary tack. In addition, a proper shield, javelin and sword need to accompany the animals.”
I could see his face brighten. “I’ll be damned.”
I held up my hand. “Before you get too excited, Primus Pilus, remember your dowry is required to fit the station of the girl and be acceptable to her family. I am lenient, but knowing my wife, I think this is not going to come cheap.”
I added: “The good news is that the wife needs to present weapons to her husband. It is a gesture to show that the woman will support her husband and fight at his side when necessary.”
He grinned then. “The Romans have a lot to learn from the Goths.”
The moon preceding the wedding passed quickly.
Although we had buried most of our coin on the farm in Sirmium, we brought along enough to still be considered extremely wealthy. Hostilius presented his wife to be with a dowry worthy of a princess. In my role as the father of the bride, I got to choose the weapons and Hostilius received a magnificent Scythian bow as well as a pattern welded short sword that cost me a goodsome share of my fortune.
We built another hall on the property which Hostilius and his new wife would occupy.
* * *
In later years I heard a wise man describe peace as the short time spans that separated long periods of conflict. I was about to find out that it was fast becoming the norm in our lives.
I rarely socialised with Kniva as he was a hands-on king who did not rest on his laurels. When I was summoned to attend him, I knew that there was trouble afoot.
He dismissed his servants and guards on my arrival after I had been handed the customary horn of ale.
“Brother, I have received disturbing news. My delegation, tasked to collect the annual tribute from the Empire, returned empty handed. The emperor’s message said that the Goths, Roxolani and Carpiani had deserted during th
e campaign against the Sasanians, therefore we had broken our oaths. I have received word, the Greuthungi are in a similar position.”
He stood, agitated. “By all the gods, Eochar, we bled for Rome. Now the Arab is calling us oathbrakers. My minor lords count on the funds. Soon they will be baying for blood. Roman blood. I do not know whether I will be able to stop them.”
He drank, then added: “You know, brother, I do not think I would want to stop them.”
I approached him and placed my hand on his shoulder. “Your enemy is my enemy, no matter who they are.”
Then I added: “As long as your enemy is not the Roxolani. My wife is the daughter of their king, you know.”
* * *
It did not take long for the resentment to build north of the Danube. The tribes were angry, cheated out of their tribute.
Within days we received a message from Ostrogotha the Patient. It sounded all but patient: an invitation to attend a council of war. Similar requests went to the Carpiani and the Roxolani. The emperor’s oathbreaking was uniting the tribes, providing them with a common enemy.
Chapter 9 – Reunion
Half a moon had passed before we received news of the imminent arrival of King Bradakos of the Roxolani.
Many moons before, I travelled through the lands of the Roxolani in the company of Kniva. There the unthinkable happened when Bradakos, king of the fearsome Royal Scythians, provided hospitality to the iudex of the mighty Thervingi.
I was part of the small retinue that accompanied the iudex to the borderlands of the Thervingi to await the arrival of my friend and mentor.
On the second day a messenger announced the arrival of the king. I forded the river and rode out to meet them.
Bradakos was escorted by a retinue of twenty warriors, which included Elmanos and Gordas. They formed the vanguard, riding half a mile ahead, accompanied by two of the king’s underlings.
Gordas clasped my arm and shook his head. “When I am close to you, I can feel it in my bones. I can sense the gathering of the clouds of war, Eochar. You truly are the war god’s servant”, he said, grinning from ear to ear.
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