“Perhaps there is a way—” I began, but was interrupted.
Raganthar took a step forward. “Lord. We will find a way. We don’t need him. Let me slay this Chatti bastard for you. He has been making life hard for us from the beginning. It’s a proper sacrifice for the gods. He’ll suffer like his cousin did.” He gazed at me hungrily. “Did you know he begged us not to hurt you? Until the end, as he cried.”
Woden’s rage called for me, even through my exhaustion. I hated the bastard, as much as I did Leuthard.
“That man killed my cousin,” I growled. “He tried to kill Tiberius. Why not blame it on him and Clodius, eh? The best thing for you now, lord, is to take his head to Tiberius. To expose the treason. Blame them. Tell them they fooled you. Lie, as only a king can. Let us finish our feud, and I will tell the Romans you were guiltless.” He spat and ground his teeth together, at the end of his patience. I gazed at him steadily. “You’ll not get your war now. No Romans will join you in the conquest of the Marcomanni, not this year. But you’ll keep your head and there will be other years.”
Vago, an old dog thrummed his fingers on his mail, as if wiping off filth, trying to wash off his perfidy, but the accursed old woman, a druid walked to my side, whispering at the king. “Hati’s servant is still strong, my King. Very strong. He should be trusted, and he might very well still accomplish his goals. Send men to find and kill Clodius. Send Raganthar on his way. Take a risk. You might rule the lands across, if you but trust him. I wager my life he will do well.”
Vago lifted an eyebrow at me, as if to ask me what I thought about that.
I walked toward the old crone. She was frowning at me, and I stopped before her. Behind her, there was a dark flowing stream. It looked uncanny, and where the water ended in a stone wall, it gurgled like a living thing, a monster of the deeps as it was sucked to the bowels of Midgard. It was an underground river, one that was revered by the river worshipping Gauls, and I wondered why the Vangiones would listen to a Gaul druid, rather than their vitka and völva. Perhaps their ways were so confused, they could no longer tell them apart.
“What say you, daughter?” Vago asked the girl. “Your tutor thinks I should listen to Raganthar.”
So, Vago had married a local Celt, and their family was of mixed blood. The girl opened her mouth, and closed it, frowning. The old woman clearly disliked the fact the King had consulted a mere girl. I heard her murmuring, and I wasn’t sure she meant her or me. “Anabonda. You’ll meet her, soon. Get you gone from me.”
I looked as the river churned away, and disappear under the stone.
I grasped her and pushed her. She wind-milled as she fell, rolled on the stone, and fell in with a splash. The look on her face was beyond astonished, though only briefly. Then she disappeared under the water, sucked in by the goddess, and she was gone. The girl was gasping, holding her hand across her mouth. I looked at the King. His face was one of incredulity. I heard Koun pull his sword, and Raganthar shuffling for me uncertainly. I addressed the King. “She wagered her life. She was wrong.”
He looked at me hard, grinding his teeth together. “You are a brazen bit of gristle, aren’t you? The only reason you still breathe is the fact you have Clodius. The only one. To kill a druid—”
I spat in the river. “I didn’t particularly like her. I’m fed up and not really in a mood to ponder what might come out of killing such as her. And as you said, we have Clodius. I could take a shit on your throne, and still you would have to pay attention.”
He nodded, just a bit, relaxing the hand on the sword. “True. You have Clodius. It buys you the right to drown a druid. But only just. Take a shit on my throne, and you’ll be torn to bits. And now, the feud? You wish to settle it?”
I gazed at Raganthar and nodded towards him. “I’m a warrior with debts to pay. If you would, let us fight.” I pointed my hammer at the beastly man. “If he wins, let him risk all of you by trying again. Or just kill him, and give him to Tiberius. Dead, if you don’t want him betraying your filth to the Romans. If I win, I’ll take the sword where it belongs, and you make your war later. You’ll find a way. And you and I both know Rome will make war on the Germani one day soon, anyway. You are still young, King Vago. And you already have allies that side of the river, don’t you? You will find a way to put a wedge in Marcomanni hearts, by war or schemes. Now? You should fear Tiberius.”
He snorted. “You, a child, advise me thus? I fear no-one.”
Koun spat. “But he might be right.”
Raganthar stabbed a finger my way. “I say, do as he says. I’ll slam my shield in his face again. It’s already spattered by plenty of blood from his weak veins, and then I’ll show you Hati still believes in me.”
Vago smiled tiredly and nodded. “Fine. Kill him,” he told Raganthar. Then he looked at me. “And if you win, you will tell Tiberius I had nothing to do with it. It was Lollius, Clodius, and him.” He nodded at Raganthar.
“Lollius, Clodius, and him,” I agreed.
“Yes,” the King said, and had probably decided to kill Raganthar anyway, should I lose.
“Deal,” I said thinly, preparing for the fight. Woden’s rage thrummed in my head, and I saw him dance in shadows and felt his power, his ruinous might, and I prepared to finish the issue. Raganthar didn’t care for ceremony. The huge enemy spat and walked straight for me, hidden behind his shield. He shrugged off his furry cape, the Head Taker glinting.
He charged with a roar.
The sword cut the air, and I danced away. “Come, come!” he yelled as he chased me. “Hammer at me. See where it will get you. There’s no blood for me to slip on! I’ve eaten the best you got and here I am. Do you best.”
I removed my cape.
I dropped my hammer.
His eyes enlarged. I rolled past him, and unwound the iron chain from around my shoulder, arm length and one that ended up in a leather-covered mass. Awkwardly I ripped the leather off, revealing a wicked, spiked ball. Raganthar glanced at the hammer on the ground, confused, and looked at the strange weapon and the gladius on my belt. “New toys? I’ll eat your heart tonight, “ he breathed. “Like I ate your cousin’s yellow balls.”
And that was all that needed to be said. I attacked. In a man’s life, one must sometimes brave everything. If one succeeds, one need never fear again, and that’s what I did. I gave myself to the gods. I went for him, and he came at me, the shield high, the sword cutting, and I twirled the dreadful chain at him. It was a skill to use such a weapon, a skill I didn’t have, but this was a desperate fight, and I replaced the missing skill with ferocity. I had to get past his shield, to hurt him, to wear him down, and so I had a new strategy.
But I misjudged his reach.
The shield slammed forward, spoiling my first attack, and I fell and rolled away, the chain clattering after me. The sword came for me, touching my back and armor. I rolled away again, gasping with pain as sti t ches opened, and the madly chuckling Raganthar roared and rushed forward, perhaps smelling blood and my weakness.
I was fast, as fast as any man with a throbbing wound on side and back, and I surprised him by charging in. He lifted the shield, and I kicked at him, and hit his knee. He fell back with a roar that thrummed in the cavern and I jumped away, the chain twirling. He had none of it. The sword was there, coming for my belly and I dodged away, the chain losing its momentum, nearly striking me in the my face. I ran and felt the sword again slice the air after me. He was giving me no time to strike. “Here, you blond rabbit!” he screamed, and I felt the blade cleave once more at my shoulders, felt the jarring crash, the armor saving my life as I surged on.
I stopped abruptly, pulled the gladius with my other hand, and made a mocking attack. He flinched instinctively, throwing his shield up, and stopped his charge. The Head Taker was stabbing past my belly. I lifted the sword, he lifted the shield, and so I had a moment.
I jumped back and found time to whirl the chain properly. The ball took its time to gather momentum, but th
en it was riding around in the air with brutal speed, making an eerie noise. Koun’s eyes glittered, Vago’s mouth was open, and the girl shrieked as Raganthar came forward, spitting at the sight of the twirling ball. The deadly shield was ready to bowl me over, and the sword, my lord’s weapon, would be coming for my life.
I timed it as well as I could.
The ball whirled around me, Raganthar was there, shield coming for me, his evil eyes glistening with the anticipation of the kill, and then the chain slammed down with all the force I had left. Just like the wet rag had folded on the slave’s back in the Roman tower, so did the metal twirl around the wide shield rim, like no other weapon could, and the spiked ball thumped into his bicep.
Raganthar screamed.
I yanked the ball off, and set it flying again, keeping distance.
He howled, and cursed. There were deep wounds in his arm, and he lifted the shield again, slowly. He looked confused and satisfactorily horrified.
I slammed the weapon down again. His eyes enlarged as the chain again folded on the shield’s rim, the evil ball rolled across his arm, from shoulder to elbow, and red ribbons were torn off as I pulled at the weapon with all my power. The shield fell away, the huge man clamped his arm around the chain, his eyes wet with pain. He grasped the ball under his armpit, trying to yank the chain off my grip with his weakened hand, but I grunted, raged, and spat as I pulled, dropping the gladius.
He screamed as the ball tore into his flesh, but he held on, and I yanked him after me across the floor with manic strength. He howled like an animal he was and fell to his face. I dragged him around like one, until he dropped the sword, the pain so intense he tried to use his other arm to take a hold of the chain. I stopped pulling, jumped over him, and landed on his back with my full force and slipped the chain under his chin.
He thrashed like a maniac. He pulled me around, then around again, and we rolled across the floor, panting, while he was choking. I was soaked in his blood, his hands were clawing the air, trying to find my face. We ended up by the water, and with god’s own luck, I ended up on his back and pushed his gaping, carnivorous mouth under the water. He was choking, and drowning. How long it took, I don’t know. I was speaking to him gently, I don’t know why, and he was gulping down the goddess’s holy water, until it was clear he was finally gone.
I panted, clawed my way to the hammer, stood over him, and chopped the weapon into his skull, shattering it. I leaned over his shoulder to whisper to him. “May Hati eat you, Raganthar. And if you see my cousin, fear him. He is a Chatti, and no coward, and you won’t have a shield or a sword, you half-man. And he’ll have this.” I threw the chain and the ball to the river, got up, and kicked his corpse, so it rolled to the water, drifted under the surface, a dark blot, and then disappeared.
Good luck coming back, you spawn of lies, I thought
I turned to look at the Vangiones, feverish and half dead.
The King was speaking with Koun, who was nodding, stealing glances at me. Whatever he was doing, he was probably not going to honor our deals, and indeed, he had made none.
Vago turned his back and walked away, and the girl followed him. The King didn’t utter a word as he went, but pulled the girl after him and disappeared up the stairs. Koun was there, looking at me with respect. “That was well done,” he said with respect. “And you are right. There will be war with the Marcomanni, soon enough. We can wait. Father told me to deliver you where you would go. Is there—”
“A man called Marcus with Tiberius. His men are in the whorehouse near the temple,” I whispered. “The Oil Lamp? Yes. Go there, take me with you, and—”
“Clodius is dead, no?” he asked with a small smile. He looked at the doorway where his father had disappeared into and shrugged. “It was a mad plan. I don’t care if he is. You’ll go home. I’m happy to burn that bastard Lollius. You think Tiberius will buy it though? That father had nothing to do with it?”
I shrugged. “Tiberius? He is a hard man to read.” I smiled at him. “He might believe you had nothing to do with it.”
Koun laughed and agreed. “Stop scheming. You won. We’ll see how things go.” He picked up the Head Taker, admiring its length and ancient make. I fell on the bed, and rested and Vangiones arrived and carried me out.
Later on, I sat on the boat. Issa and the crew were rowing me down the river for Hard Hill. I held on to the Head Taker, my other hand on the hilt of the hammer, and slept.
CHAPTER 29
Marcus accepted Vago’s explanations. So did Tiberius. They were lies, everyone knew it, but Lollius was in a deep trouble. He would leave for Rome, having made a political suicide by trying to regain his honor with a fabricated war to avenge the death of Tiberius, a man he loathed and hated, and would hate forever, until his death much later.
I spoke with Marcus, and he told me to be patient, that Gisil was safe, and to serve Hulderic. I guessed Rome indeed had plans for the Rhenus River, and many men like me in the ranks of the free people.
It would be an honorless service.
I’d accept the service, obey, and try to find my place, perhaps love that might drive Gisil away from my soul. I prayed to Frigg, as Issa rowed me to Hard Hill, that she would find her peace in Rome.
After we moored, I was carried up the hill. Hard Hill was silent, when I arrived. Later, when I was lying in the Red Hall, it was different. I was being accused of treason. Fulch the Red was there, leaning on a sturdy staff, recovering from his wound, and looking at me carefully. Ermendrud had poked her head in, and I was happy she was alive. Fulch’s wounds were mending, but his honor, his standard had been taken. I listened on how at least ten famous men accused me of siding with the enemy, pointing the fingers at me, and no matter what took place, I’d have feuds with the families of Hard Hill. Many feuds. Harmod the Old, the Goth of old ancestry, grim and big, and my tormentor in the hall of Teutorigos was looking on, bored.
Fulch growled. “We will avenge ourselves on the Gauls,” he said icily. “There will be many wars to pay back for the deaths of our men, but we should start with this liar.”
Balderich was wiping his face. I saw him. He was smiling under his hand, and I knew I had served him well. The Marcomanni, despite Bero’s reluctance, would fight more wars. Despite the loss, there would be more men in Hard Hill than ever, and the tribe would prepare for a war with Rome. He had gotten what he wanted, but would he save me? He listened to the men for a long time, and when they had mostly vented their rage, he lifted a finger. “Out. We’ll talk more in the Thing. Yea, he has deserved your ire, but now I’ll speak with him on my own. And you lot. Stay.” He pointed a finger at Bero and Harmod.
And Leuthard.
The other men left, muttering angrily.
I gazed at the Leuthard.
He looked dead. His face was pale, his eyes dark, and he slouched on a seat, refusing to lie down. On his side, there was a new sword, longer than the Feud Settler. Bero took a step forward. “Why is that man here?” he asked and nodded at Harmod.
Harmod spat, and pointed a finger at me. “That man was sent to recover the Head Taker. He took it from thieves. And he has an interesting story about the thieves.”
Bero cursed, and Balderich raised a hand. He was holding the famed sword. “Many Marcomanni dead. Thievery. Murders and lies. Adalwulf coming back with the sword. Is he Hulderic’s man now?”
“He is,” Harmod said. “And Hulderic shall judge him, if you let him.”
“No,” Bero said thinly. “I’m missing—”
I laughed gutturally. “Silver and gold.”
“You took them,” he growled. “You murdered my men, took them to Seisyll—”
“Lies, my lord,” I interrupted him weakly and sat up painfully. “I was out there to recover the sword. A story Lord Balderich knows well.” Balderich’s eyes went to Bero, and there was something unkind there, and Bero knew better than to press the issue.
“I’m missing treasure,” Bero said simply, shivering.
>
But it was not really missing, since Danr and Iodocus had brought it to Balderich, which also made our lord happy, though he hid his glee well. Balderich slammed the sword on the floorboards. “Adalwulf will go and serve Hulderic. He will answer to the feuds in time, pay his wergilds, and he’ll serve to wash away the blood he had to spill in our service. There was a misunderstanding, that is all. As for you, Bero, you’ll start looking into weakening the Vangiones. I want their villages to burn, much more frequently than before. Since King Vago wants Hard Hill, we must start giving him reason to look after his own lands, no?”
Bero nodded, his face dark with rage. He spun on his heels, and left.
Balderich winked at me, and looked to the side, where Iodocus walked out. He saw Leuthard sitting there, looking at him balefully. The Celt tried his best to ignore the man, and walked to me. Harmod pulled me up, I tried to help, but I toppled to the arms of Iodocus. He hugged me, happy to see me, tears in his face. Balderich clapped my back, gave the Head Taker to Harmod, passed by Leuthard, who still didn’t make a sound, and the great lord went out. Iodocus whispered to my ear. “I found Ingrid.”
I looked at Leuthard, and then whispered at Iodocus. He hesitated, and gave me a bag, which I took gratefully. “Wait outside for me, please,” I told them.
“Be careful,” Harmod said darkly. “The hall’s poisonous and filled with vermin.” They moved out, and I stared at Leuthard.
Leuthard said nothing, but looked at the bag in my hand. I lifted it and it jingled. I walked before him, opened the bag and poured out bits of metal that fell to the floor before him. His eyes followed the stream of metal, Feud Settler’s remains and then looked up at me.
I spoke. “Like you, a broken thing of no worth.”
“Look over your shoulder,” he told me softly.
“I killed one, I can kill another,” I spat and turned to leave.
“Did you? Did you kill him?” he laughed, and when I exited, he called out. “Remember. Ear. Ear is after her. He will walk in her shadow. He will wait for years. He’ll find her, even if she is hidden in the lap of a goddess. And you go and weep over Ingrid. You and I? Don’t walk the woods alone.”
Adalwulf: The Two Swords (Tales of Germania Book 1) Page 37