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

by Alaric Longward

  “Romans might rename the hills, one day,” I said. “They don’t fear scruffy madmen. How far is it?”

  “By evening tomorrow, we shall see it,” he said and chuckled. “Romans might, but they will just visit.”

  I rubbed my face tiredly. “And these Brethren. They all serve god Hati? These …”

  He picked his teeth, and shook his head. “Hati’s no god. Just a hunter.”

  “He travels the sky after Mani. Isn’t that a god?”

  He shrugged. “A god cares for power. Hati cares for the hunt. That’s all. He cares not for those who would worship him. He appreciates a good hunter.” He waved for the horizons. “The Brethren are scum. Mercenaries, criminals, madmen. Most are just like any thief skulking in the woods.” He pointed a finger at his own chest. “And some, some are like me.”

  “Liars?” I asked.

  He leaned close. “Do you think I’m an ordinary man?”

  I shuddered, hiding my revulsion and fear. “No matter what you are, you’re still a man,” I said softly, and I saw he was irked.

  “Remember that when we get there,” he laughed dryly. “Ear and Raganthar are kin to me. We have been kissed by Hati, and you’ll see.”

  I nodded, and held my hammer tightly, as his horse bumped into mine as he tried to get down. I thought he did that purposefully, like a dangerous animal testing its bars. I guided my horse into his, and it shied away. He smiled coldly, as he let the horse eat some grass. He turned to take a piss. “Fine. Tell me about your family. What,” I asked him brusquely, “gives you your battle rage? I feel, see the rage. It’s there, and fills me with careless power. I see the figure of—”

  “Woden,” he answered, shaking his head spitefully. “The One Eye, Woden and Freya the Red touch a warrior like that, though rarely. Freya’s brother, Freyr, also might give a warrior the gift, or a curse, but mine is nothing like that.”

  “Madness, then? Hati’s madness?” Decimus asked from behind. “We have gods, plenty of them in Rome, and all are welcome, but not Germani gods from that side of the river.” He nodded towards the east. “Your gods drink blood and tears, and are unsuitable for Rome. Too primitive, aren’t they?”

  “How much do you know of Hati?” Leuthard asked, visibly relieved after the piss.

  “He chases the moon?” I said. “One day, he’ll catch it, while Sköll takes Sunna, and their father, Fenfir is released. Its all a story.”

  “But you believe celestial horses pull Sunna the Bright across the sky? And you believe Sköll chases her? Or in the case of Mani, he is chased by Hati?” he asked, amused, as he mounted. “You do not think the Night-Wolf will grasp the brother of Sunna one day, and feed on him?”

  “No,” I laughed. “You tell me nothing. You say your family is special, that you serve Hati. But—”

  He slapped his thigh to silence us. “We don’t only serve him. We are of him.”

  We stared at him, disconcerted. I rubbed my face. “Stories are fine way to pass time, as long as the poet knows what is too unbelievable. Son of Hati indeed!”

  He laughed. “Hati is a lazy wolf. He is tired of chasing the elusive, chariot-drawn coward every night, and escapes to our world, to Midgard, or one of the other Nine. He is capricious, cruel, and gives his gifts to men with his seed.”

  We sat there with Decimus, staring at the huge lunatic. “You say Hati takes women in the night, and thus are born men who are more than the rest of us? And this is why you might rip a man’s face off. Because you are more than men?”

  “Or less,” Decimus whispered.

  Leuthard pointed a finger north. “My father, my brother, and I loved the north. We lived near the sea,” he said. “The Batavi live there. Great horsemen, stout warriors. They are formerly an offshoot of the Chatti, did you know that? Do you have any legends of men who do what I do?” he asked me. “Come now. You must have sat in your father’s lap as the elders spun tales.”

  I shrugged. “I was a bad listener. But you hunt. That’s what you do. And you say that’s because you are a god-spawned—”

  “Hunt,” he said roughly. “I hunt. I hunt in my dreams, I hunt in battle, I hunt in the night, and you know it is true. I hunt like Hati, not like a man. Or have you seen a man mauled like Seisyll before? And the others? That is where my prowess comes from. From seed. You speak to your Woden, Adalwulf. I need not seek help from anywhere. It’s all in my blood.”

  The others. Ingrid. Bait. And many others, I thought. His prey.

  He chuckled at the look on our faces. “Believe what you will. It will do you no good. The Brethren mimic us, my family. They kill, and do as we do, but they don’t hunt, not like we do. They are a pale shadow in comparison to Raganthar, Ear, and I.” He lifted an eyebrow.

  I let the message sink in.

  “They are family?” I asked softly.

  “Yes,” he chuckled. “Family. Now know this. You will have to prepare. Raganthar is a cousin. He is Ear’s brother. In case you get the chance, kill him fast. He’ll hunt you, if you let him out of your grasp. And then I’ll miss the chance to kill you myself.”

  I gazed at him. “All related. You might have mentioned this earlier.”

  “Well, you know now,” he smiled dreadfully.

  “And how do you expect me to believe you would betray him?”

  “For my sword, I’d feed my mother to the spiders, pup,” he laughed and shook his head. “Trust me. Our god understands. And I dislike Raganthar, though not Ear. Ready?”

  “Let’s go then,” I said darkly, feeling the deal was turning sour. Relatives? I missed Iodocus. There had been something shadowy and odd about Raganthar. While I refused to believe they were wolf-spawn, for we had such stories indeed in the lands of the Chatti, I felt I was walking naked across molten iron.

  We trekked until that evening, took routes the Celts had long abandoned, and rode on, and rode past valleys where some brave herdsmen were guarding fat cows. Gaul was supposed to be far more cultivated than Germania, I thought, but you could hardly notice the difference. “Where are the Roman roads?” I asked Decimus, having heard of them.

  Decimus was humming as he looked around. “Not here!” he chortled. “There are many leading to Lugdunum. The ones that skirt the river in Lower and Upper Germania are still being constructed. There are some military roads in place already, but we will be building them forever.”

  “Do you know who would desire a war with Germania?” I asked him, happy to speak even with the rogue than the beast. “Have you heard of anything odd?”

  He burped and held his belly and he had a clever, guarded look in his eyes. “So hungry. I’ll eat the mane off this horse, if I don’t get something else soon. As for your question, I don’t know. Peace is profitable enough for the local merchants, but terrible for those who supply the army. Negotiatores, they call them,” Decimus said. “These negotiatores must feed the men, find gear, ship luxury items, and find things to replace what can’t be had, but peace is horrible, because they have to cajole, negotiate, and fawn on the local merchants. Give war, and they dictate the terms. Oh, they squeeze the fools and make riches. I wish I was one.”

  “Any tribes who would want a war with the Marcomanni?”

  He nodded. “Likely many local chief hope to see the Marcomanni gone. You saw what happened to Sparrow’s Joy. Mediomactri fear for their lands and cows. Though things have been pretty peaceful lately with your people. That’s just changed though, hasn’t it?” He had a shrewd look on his face. “Then again, it could be something bigger. Perhaps someone isn’t afraid, but greedy. The Vangiones? King Vago hates you lot more than he hates his mother-in-law. Give war, and they can expand their lands, not just keep their cows. They are powerful enough for such plans. There are some other rich lords who could hire these Brethren, though by the looks of their home, they don’t charge much.”

  “They prefer the land here,” Leuthard growled. “They prefer hunting grounds to luxury.”

  Decimus ignored him. �
�The legions try to protect those tribes who are furthest along on the road to becoming Romans. Many nobles take the blessing of Rome, and learn Latin, live like we live, build shrines, adopt Roman laws, and ultimately, become citizens. There are many home-born Romans as well. There are many Roman officials, many tribunes who might be a suitable target. Some are Claudii this year, even. Tribunes making their first steps into glory of Senate. Two young men, at least, in our legion. Old families. Well-known, and perhaps even loved. Also, some precious men are not nobles, but would be missed. Some are famous engineers. They will build many castra by Rhenus River,” he said with a sneeze and froze. His face looked shocked. “They are touring the land.”

  “Who?” I asked him.

  He nodded towards Moganticum. “Tiberius, with Lollius the Meek. Tiberius just saved the Aquila of that fool Lollius. Have you heard of the Sigambri business?”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of it,” I answered. Tiberius and Lollius were near?

  Decimus’s face looked ashen gray. “That poor Legion. They are furious. Wasn’t their fault, but the idiot’s. Lollius the Dolt. It’s a deserved title, be he a governor or not. They are travelling the Lower and Upper Germania, and will be around Moganticum any time.”

  “What are they doing?” I asked him. Yes, they are the targets. One, at least.

  Decimus shrugged. “What? Why should I know? They don’t confide in me. They don’t invite me to their parties. I imagine they’ll draw plans for development as they tour the land. Tiberius is giving Lollius hard time, forcing him to pay attention to the mean, small matters. Call it a punishment. A dog is being taught to follow the master. Augustus will probably recall the fool, though he loves him well. Lollius did well in Galatia, but here? No. To lead a legion to battle with no idea where their enemy is? Unheard of. Primus Pilus dead, hundred others? Aquila stolen? Even Augustus cannot endure such ignominy. He’ll let Tiberius humiliate the man, and will call him home eventually, when some time has passed. Lollius will never govern anything again.” He had a thoughtful, greedy look on his face.

  Leuthard squinted. “Tiberius and Lollius, eh? Touring the land.”

  He had the same idea.

  “Surely,” I asked, “the Brethren could not be after Lollius and Tiberius? They would be very well-guarded.”

  Decimus smiled slyly, and ambition filled his eyes. You could almost see him slavering for a promotion. “I hope they are. Wouldn’t that be splendid? Eh? We have to stop them. Oh, we must!”

  We rode in silence, and Sunna was dragged from the sky by the celestial horses, its last rays covering the land with a thin, red blanket. This was when Leuthard grunted, and took to a cluster of trees, pointing a finger to a triangular heap of overgrown rocks miles away, with a long, flowery hillside leading to the door. “That’s it.”

  We stared at it. It looked oddly peaceful, not dangerous at all. The birds were singing forlornly, and wind was picking up, still gentle.

  “It looks—” I began.

  “We rest until the midnight,” he interrupted. “Don’t let the looks deceive you.”

  “You say they hunt at night,” I murmured. “So why not go in the morning, or now?”

  He mocked me. “You don’t sound like Woden’s hero, Adalwulf. No, we’ll go in during the night. We do so, because I am here. I’m the best hunter of them all. They’ll not doubt me. And even they sleep. Best fight drowsy men.”

  “Find some water,” I told Decimus, who shrugged himself into activity, and Leuthard poked his foot at my leg. “What?” I asked.

  He sat there, smiling, and I knew he had been waiting for the moment since we rode out. “Remember the man who they killed in Hard Hill before you?” he asked, his eyes glinting maliciously. “The one murder that upset me?”

  I felt my belly churning. “Yes. Why?”

  He chuckled. “He rode in a few days before you. He was asking for you.”

  “I know he was asking for me,” I snarled. “Speak plainly!”

  He kept smiling, and I wanted to slay him there for the evil in him. He found joy in my discomfort, like a spider would enjoy the struggles of a fly. “Oh, yes. He was asking after you. By name. Was worried about you, you see. He was a Chatti.”

  “I know this! Who was he?”

  “Patience,” he smiled. “He’ll be in there.”

  “He died, though?” I asked him, confused.

  “He’ll be there. He is dead, but you know him.”

  “Know him? You’ll not tell me who it was?” I asked him. “This Chatti?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said harshly. “Just wanted to prepare you. You’ll learn about Gisil as well. And you will be sad, sadder than ever, and you’ll be sad for the rest of your life, should it be a long one, but I doubt it will be,” Leuthard added, and he was right.

  I would be sad, indeed.

  CHAPTER 21

  We slept uneasily, and by midnight, Leuthard kicked us up. “Time to go, my pretties,” he chortled. “Time to fight, and to weep.” We made ready.

  The preparations didn’t take long. I forgot my hunger, drank water, and we mounted up. We rode downhill, over a stream, and left our horses by a small pond. We snuck in the night like foxes for the Den, and stayed hidden by bushes and ferns, or under a canopy of low hanging pines. I was anxiously trying to see the place, but Mani was covered during our approach. I saw little but a shadowy hump of rock ahead.

  “There are some guards, no?” I asked.

  Leuthard nodded and went forward, dodging under some young birches. We came to the lower end of the hill. There was a half-crumbled yard of an old house right before us. Everything was overgrown, moldy, ruined, and the depressing gloom and a promise of rain from an unkind, dark mass of clouds were enough to make us anxious.

  “There should be guards, “ Leuthard murmured. “But if there are, they won’t show themselves.”

  “No fires,” Decimus said. “Uncanny lot.”

  “See,” Leuthard said, and pointed a finger on top of the rocky formation. The night was dark, but you could see air distort there, as heat escaped to the cooler night. “There are people in there, and they have fires going. It’s a cave.”

  “How many men does this friend of yours have?” Decimus asked, fingering his spear. “I miss my sword.”

  Leuthard shrugged. “We’ll make do. Twenty to thirty, depends on how many have died, or joined him lately. You killed many in the hall of Teutorigos. In there, not more than eight? I’ll handle Ear.”

  I finally saw movement. Something walked past a darkness midway up the hill. “The door?” I asked. “It’s there?”

  “That’s it. The filthy Den of the Brethren.” He spat. Apparently, he had developed a taste for luxury since he left the lot. “A door and a way down a bit. Slippery, wet, but they take in some horses that way. The cave’s shallow, dry, doesn’t run very far, and moonlight shines in through the roof. They have stables and pens, cellars and armories in there. And prisoners,” Leuthard said grimly. “And we are seeking such prisoners. One in particular.”

  “Why? Why not one or two of the men?” Decimus insisted. “What would a dirty prisoner know?”

  Leuthard smiled. “It’s a special one. They have a priest,” Leuthard said. “A hermit, mad and dangerous, but he will know exactly where to find Raganthar. He will, because Raganthar would never go anywhere without asking him. That’s my uncle, and their father.”

  I looked at the Roman, and he looked back at me. “Why,” I finally asked, “is he a prisoner?”

  “He is a reluctant one,” Leuthard chortled, and I felt cold chills go down my back.

  They keep a relative a prisoner, and still seek his advice.

  Leuthard waved his hand up the hill. “He’s not happy, but they ask him for guidance, hoping for Hati to speak through him. He’ll know everything.”

  “Ear won’t?” I asked.

  “No,” he said simply. “He is a mute.”

  We mulled it over for a moment, and saw a
nother shadow pass by the door.

  “How will we surprise them?” Decimus asked, squinting to the direction of the rising land. “Is there a backdoor?”

  “Of course there is,” Leuthard laughed. “But you cannot use it to enter. We’ll use the front door. I’ll ride in there. They know me, don’t they?”

  Wind ruffled the moss on the old walls of the house, and I felt death brushing our cheeks.

  “What if they are all in there?” Decimus asked. “You ride there, and smile like the little sunshine you are, eh? And then they pour out. Not one or two, but twenty.”

  “That’s right. I’ll grin at them like a loving father,” Leuthard confirmed. “And if they are all there, you should probably run. I’ll risk finding Iodocus on my own in the Hard Hill, rather than commit a suicide. But I should be the one to go in first, and that will surprise them to be sure. They fear me.”

  “Then, I suppose, you’ll lop off the head of some poor bastard in charge?” Decimus asked.

  “Yes, I’ll ask them to fetch their chief,” Leuthard agreed. “It’s some older warrior. Ear won’t do. He is a mute, as I said. And unpredictable.”

  And you are not? I thought.

  Decimus wiped his chin and lifted him eyebrow. “And what then?”

  “I’ll kill him,” he stated, and then shrugged. “I’ll get their attention, and you’ll rip them apart as they try to kill me. All clear?”

  Decimus and I looked at each other.

  “Sure,” I said. “But you won’t ride your horse up there.”

  “Oh?” he growled.

  “Because if they are all in there, we will need time to escape,” I rasped.

  “I see,” he chuckled. “As sure as the ale in Valholl is foamy and bitter, some half-breed horses won’t save you if things don’t turn out as you hope they will. Pray the dice will favor you.”

  “I don’t like it,” I said.

  He snorted. “Or we can always stay here. We can make a little camp, and wait around, hoping for divine inspiration to strike one of us with the knowledge what they are up to. You choose, Adalwulf.”