Adalwulf: The Two Swords (Tales of Germania Book 1)

by Alaric Longward

  “Oh, we only have cows and horses,” I said, and blushed, as I realized what filth she had meant. She didn’t miss the opportunity to giggle at me. I gazed to the side, where Iodocus was asleep, and at the door, by which her husband’s shed was. I knew if he had been awake, I’d have an enemy.

  Unless he hoped to be rid of her, of course.

  In which case, he was probably jubilant and thanking gods tearfully.

  There was suddenly something desperate and ferocious about her eyes. “Look around, boy. You see how I live, no?”

  “Seems a pretty good life to me, but am I missing something?”

  “The fool, that … thing in the shed, that’s what,” she said with such scathing hatred, I had sympathy for the poor man, and half wondered why he was not dead yet. “I am not the sort of a woman to waste my life like this. I want changes. Great changes to my life. I want a better hall. Finer clothes. A man with ambition. Children. Perhaps that is now taken care of.”

  My breath stopped for a moment until she snapped my forehead. Surely not, I thought. Yes, of course it was possible, I decided, and all that had passed felt somehow not worth it right that moment.

  I put my hands on her hips, hoping to push her away, but she twitched with pleasure, pushed her hair out of her eyes, locked herself there with her powerful legs and kept speaking. “I want to move away. With you.”

  “Oh?” I said with confusion, looking into her devious eyes. “Without your husband?”

  She gaped at me with astonishment. “With you, I said. Of course without him, you fool. I want to forget him, never to see or hear of him again,” she hissed. “And for that, I need two things. One is a man. A fine, strong man, a fighter who braves enemy shields and spears and does not squat over filthy hooves all day. I have that sort of a man, I think, right between my legs,” she said proudly.

  “I—”

  She put a finger over my mouth, smiled, and moved my hand on her round buttock. My fingers found her ass pleasant as she moved to sit on it. She was very persuasive, I had to admit. I closed my eyes, and tried to control the lust. “Second,” she said huskily, “I need a man who will make us rich. In a quick way. Perhaps by taking, rather than waiting?”

  And at that, I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to rob Seisyll, and to run away with her. I opened my mouth to deny her this wish, but she was faster, and moved from my chest to my face. I shut my mouth, and did what she wanted me to do, no matter how mad and dangerous she was.

  ***

  In the morning I awoke with a start, and found Iodocus was sitting across the room from me, grinding wheat on a quern-stone, and the girl was not around. I stared him incredulously. “What in Hel’s name is that?”

  “Food,” he snorted.

  “You make food? Bread? Where is the girl?” I asked, not sure if he had heard us that night.

  “She’s about,” he said with a smile. “Yes, I’ll fix us something to eat. I’m bored out of my mind, anyway.”

  “Five days?” I asked him, rubbing my face and pulling on my clothes.

  “The young one can count,” he noted dryly. “Day five. If Bero’s away, it will be many more days before anything happens. If anything happens anyway. It might be they are no fools, and Bero is just taking the loss like a woman. Weeps himself to sleep, eh?”

  “I cannot believe they’d stomach losing what we took,” I said hopelessly. “Perhaps they fooled us, crossed the river elsewhere last night, hoping to surprise us, and are lost. They are riding around like blind drunkards, weeping, hoping someone might tell them where to find Seisyll.”

  “Perhaps they did,” Iodocus said with a snort. “Relax, it’s going well enough. We will sit here until we go crazy, or until Seisyll tires of the game. We have time still. Relax, relax some more, and heal that wound of yours.” He squinted, and gave a guttural laugh. “But then, you did relax last night, didn’t you? However, that sort of relaxation likely didn’t do any favors to your wound. She was quite enthusiastic. I bet she woke half the village. And you did as well, you goat.”

  I held my head and looked at him unkindly. “I didn’t. And I regret it. Sort of.”

  He laughed. “Oh, you did wake them up. A boy brought us water. He said you were panting like a dog in heat. He lives two houses that way.” He nodded vaguely out the door.

  I looked around, gathering my tunic. “You know, she has this plan—”

  He shook his head like a father might. “It’s going to be awkward, Adalwulf,” he stated and pointed a steady finger at me. “Unless you really are contemplating on running away with the vixen and the treasure? Then it’s not awkward at all.”

  “You heard that discussion, eh?” I said sheepishly. “Its her plan. I only planned on pleasing her in bed. And I didn’t even plan for that. She sat on me while I was dreaming of someone else.”

  He stopped for a moment, and smiled maliciously. “Look, Adalwulf. I didn’t hear a thing. I slept like the dead. Even if the rest of the village were awake listening to your adventures, I was out of it. I saw her when she left you this morning, that’s all, and the boy told me most of it.”

  I stared at him. “Then how did you know what she wants from me? How did you know she aims to run away with me? And the treasure?”

  “She will want a man.” He made a surprisingly passable mockery of her face. “She’ll need an ambitious man who will make her rich! And he must not wait for riches to come to him, no. He must take them!”

  I blushed. “You did hear it!”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I did, kind of. About an hour before she came to you. There’s a reason why I was so exhausted and slept like the dead. She probably sat on my chest like she sat on yours, and told me she wanted to elope.”

  We sat there, and I held my head. It ached, and I had a sour taste in my mouth. “She came to you before me?”

  “She sure did,” he chuckled.

  I thought about it. “She sat on my face. I licked—”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m not sure how to apologize.” He chortled and then roared with laughter, and I could not help but join in. When we were done, he offered me water and gruel, wiping his tears. “At least I said no to her plans. She was smiling when she left your side, so I assume you didn’t have the balls to deny her the mad dream?”

  “No,” I said miserably. “My balls were all spent. She wants that treasure, and I want neither her or the treasure, but I didn’t tell her I’d pass.”

  We heard a clatter on the doorway.

  She was there, looking at us, her face blushed and wrathful, and we both looked down like true cowards. She had heard us. It was clear as Sunna in the sky. I was begging gods she would accept what I had said, and dared not look at her Eventually, she let out a noise, a hissing, enraged one, like a horse when it’s preparing to kick another stallion. Then she left.

  “Well,” Iodocus breathed. “That’s settled. Though I’m not sure we are safe. I’m preparing the food from now on, I guess. I’m practicing, at least.”

  “Has our contact send us any word?” I asked him, desperate to escape the hut.

  He laughed. “No. Why should he? It’s not evening. Nothing since yesterday,’ he murmured, regretting the fact as well. “We must stop worrying. Nothing’s changed. Did you notice while there has been no news of Bero’s wrath, neither has there been anything bigger afoot? Balderich has not been told of the thievery. Bero would hate to, since that would reveal the full extent of his riches. Probably would make the old man, the high blood of Aristovistus, livid with anger and jealousy, should it be learnt there is a richer warlord in the village than the great Balderich. They haven’t mentioned Seisyll, not at all. No, Bero will come, but only when he is ready. He is scouting the place. He will know all he can about the village, surrounding villages, men camped near, but with any luck, they won’t know about the extra war-band in the village. Or whatever else Seisyll’s planning, and yea, there must be more. It will be bitter struggle. It’s up to yo
u and me to capture Leuthard. We just have to endure my cooking and the she-demon.”

  “I wish I knew what Seisyll is planning,” I complained. I didn’t trust the man, not one bit. He wanted the riches, but would he honor the agreement. And so, I had another idea. I looked at Iodocus and smiled.

  “What?” he asked, worried.

  “We need a plan for Seisyll,” I stated.

  He sighed and nodded in agreement, as he lifted an eyebrow at me. “What kind?” He kept grinding the flour.

  I shook my head as he nearly dropped the whole affair to the floor. “That’s going to taste as bad as it looks.”

  Iodocus grimaced. “You’ll learn manners, or you’ll not eat. I won’t cook for you, unless you learn to be polite,” he said as he grunted with the effort of grinding. “What kind of plan did you have in mind?”

  I sat down on stool next to him, and looked deep into the crushed wheat. “If you think I’ll starve, you are wrong,” I told him, and looked aghast at his efforts. “I rather eat grass than that gritty bread of yours. I see a stone!”

  He scowled. “Some stones fall in, every now and then. I’m not perfect.”

  I counted with my fingers. “What did Seisyll disagree on with Teutorigos?” I asked him. “Originally. Why is Teutorigos a Marcomanni?”

  Iodocus shrugged. “Teutorigos displeased the Romans. Killed a publicani, a man who was from a rival tribe. Seisyll took the opportunity to rob him of his lands and rulership.” He glanced at me. “I know that mischievous look. What are you thinking about? Out with it.”

  I thrummed my fingers on the desk. “Well. You did notice Seisyll looked like a fish on a dry land when he looked at the coins. He means to keep them.”

  Iodocus stopped grinding. “Yes. I bet that’s the deal, anyway. He doesn’t give a duck’s shit about Cerunnos. That’s the price of his help. The coins. Probably more, I think. Teutorigos will give him everything he has after Leuthard is dead.”

  I stared at him. “He gave it all to the gods.”

  Iodocus laughed. “He had it fished up after he knew it would be needed. He is a cursed man, Adalwulf. Driven. Willing to insult the gods themselves if only he can catch a hold of Leuthard.”

  I looked at my nails, nervous about the whole deal. “I think we need Seisyll properly motivated to stay true to our goal. I say, when the battle begins, you sneak to his hall and get the treasure. You take it, hide it, and if things don’t work out, we can bargain hard. There it is.”

  He grunted, began to argue, sulked, shook his head and went on grinding. “You eat the gritty bread, lord. You’ll clean, because I doubt our host will do anything more for us. We’ll run the place. As for what you just suggested? Perhaps I heard you. Perhaps I agree. But it’s all situational. If possible, I might do this. You just worry about capturing the bastard, if Seisyll has no plan to do so. And I’ll think about it as well. I didn’t like the look on his face in the stables. I’d have archers pierce his skull rather than take him alive.”

  I rubbed my face tiredly. “It’s so damned desperate.”

  “It is, as desperate an affair as this soon-to-be so-called bread. Gods, I wish we had not made that girl mad,” he cursed. “I’ll get the treasure and hide it, and myself, if things go wrong.”

  ***

  Eventually we ate, waited, and sat in the hut. Elisedd came back that evening, and went about her business. She said nothing, and regarded us as she would her least favorite furniture.

  “Look, I—” I began, but she waved me down.

  Her eyes were squinted as she regarded me, the disappointment thick in the air as she spoke. “You made your choice. And left me with none. Well, perhaps one.” She smiled at me, and nodded towards the door. “You wait for news, no? I saw a man riding in. He has news. He had some yesterday, and the days before it, but today, he looks shocked. You’ll not like the what he has got to say, hmm?” She tilted her head with mockery. “Wait for it.”

  I got up and walked to the door, which I opened ever so gently. True enough, a Celt warrior was in the yard, speaking with Seisyll, and the courier had a bag. The man opened it up for Seisyll, and what was in it, made the Celt lord step back, and spit. He wiped his mouth, saw me staring, and grabbed the bag. He walked towards me, and I stood in the doorway, uncertain and dreading what he had to say. He stopped before me, and looked me up and down. “Bero and Leuthard are back in Hard Hill. There is something going on with them, they say. Leuthard’s war-band has been gathering. So likely, things will take place soon. Very soon.”

  My eyes went to the bag. “And that?”

  He shrugged. “A price to pay. This was left at the gate. It’s so unusual it has to be tied to these events. No?” He opened up the bag, and I looked inside.

  Inside, long, blond hair, with scalp attached. A woman’s hair.

  Ingrid.

  I was sure of it. I dropped the sack, and Seisyll grabbed it. His eyes betrayed no sympathy, but he stepped away from me as I leaned on the doorway. When I went inside, I sat in a dark corner, holding my head. I didn’t wish to see the gloating, evil eyes of Elisedd. Iodocus went out, despite having been ordered not to, and came back, having found out the reason for my shock. He sat near me, and put an arm around my neck, and I sobbed there. After time had passed, he spoke. “He’ll be here soon. Nobody walks away.”

  I raised my eyes, and saw Elisedd hugging herself. She looked nervous, expectant, and outside, far in the hills, a wolf howled.

  Leuthard’s message was clear. He was coming, he knew what was waiting, and he’d eat us whole.

  CHAPTER 14

  Morning came, and the day passed as I sat, holding my hammer. I waited, and hoped I would endure because my patience was tested and strained to the limits.

  I had dreamt again.

  Of murder.

  In the dream, I had rowed back across the river, and just like some small demi-god of Asgaard, a creature of heroic stories, I had killed men who stood against me, one-by-one, breaking their necks, destroying their halls, breaking their bones. I climbed the hill, filled with the corpses of evil men. By the time I reached the top, I wasn’t sure if I was a good or an evil man, being covered in blood head to toe, and loving each kill like a child loves their mother. I had finally spotted Leuthard, sitting on a dark horse.

  I was no man.

  I knew he wasn’t one either.

  We had sized each other up, while I stalked him.

  I woke up to the cocks crowing before I could finish the feud, and no matter how hard I tried to slip back to the dream to finish the deed, the cocks crowed again, and I was awakened.

  And so, I sat still that day, trying not to imagine how Ingrid had died. Iodocus didn’t say a word. He washed himself, set down to fix food, singing softly, and so the evening eventually arrived. Even Elisedd was mostly sitting in the corner, wringing her hands, waiting.

  The news would come soon, I knew, and I hoped it would speak of a warband that was to come that very evening and night for us. We had the men, I thought, and I’d make my dream come true. Seisyll had plans. I’d trust them, and Iodocus would secure our lives by taking back the coins, if he could. But I would take Leuthard, and I’d beg to see how he dies, when the time finally came.

  Elisedd’s head shot up.

  Then, she was standing and cocking her head. She was also smiling. “Something is coming,” she said excitedly.

  She was right, though we couldn’t imagine what made her so happy.

  There was a strange change in what were the normal sounds of the village. Iodocus stood up, and so did I. We rushed to the door, our hearts pounding, and knew something extraordinary was taking place. It was an uneasy silence. We were like birds, sensing a calamity in advance. Nobody was making a sound. No men were speaking, no women laughing, even if Sparrow’s Joy had already led a subdued life those past days. The silence was near total. The flat hilltop had shut up, as if struck by a god’s hammer, and then there was a horse whinnying, men shouting. I knew the gate
, a fenced, spiked thing, was being dragged aside by the creak, a voice we had grown accustomed to. I shrugged at Iodocus. “Someone is coming. Not something. Is it the man who brings the news?”

  Iodocus shook his head nervously. “Someone is coming, indeed. God Taranis be damned, but they cannot fool you, my friend,” he said. “You know this is something different,” he added, and opened the door. We pushed each other in our desperate hurry to witness what was taking place. We spied Seisyll walking through a cluster of round houses and gardens for the fence, where the lord bowed stiffly the minute the doorway opened.

  In rode Roman.

  “Shit,” Iodocus whispered. “Shit, fuck us. I thought there should not have been any patrols for weeks?”

  But there was.

  It had to be a Roman, as he didn’t look anything like the Celts or the Germani, and wore a red cape over dusty military splendor. He was a sturdy, clean-shaved, and his skin was slightly darker than ours, his face beautiful as a god’s. There was a sort of a strange, inbred arrogance and confidence in his gestures, and the way he sat on his horse, as if he belonged there, higher than the rest. He held a large, oblong shield loosely on his left arm, and stretched his arm to the side to beacon for Seisyll to approach. We saw scars of battle in his well-muscled forearms and biceps.

  And the armor?

  Dusty as it was, it was still beautiful. It was a Roman lorica hamata, well made, mended in places, but a supreme piece of armor. Celts had reputedly the finest armor in the world, but they reserved it for their best men, like we did, and Romans armed and armored nearly all their infantry in this manner. He sat on his white horse, and the helmet with transverse crest looked supremely military on him. The helmet had a fabulous dark horse-hair billowing over his shoulders, like he were partly an animal. His caligae were hobnailed and glinted as he guided a thick horse around Seisyll. A gladius hung over his left shoulder by a balteus.

  “A centurion,” whispered Iodocus. “Damn centurion. Of all the days. They usually come during midsummer, and escort a publicani, some local shit that has bought the right to collect the taxes. But why are they here now?”