Maroboodus: A Novel of Germania (The Goth Chronicles Book 1)

by Alaric Longward

  I felt uncomfortable speaking with the great man. Wasn’t he dangerous, after all, and unpredictable, and were we not speaking of matters I really knew nothing of? ‘Doesn’t it always go to the son who marries first? The son of the one who holds it?’

  He smiled. ‘That’s the story. But perhaps it should go to the brother who rules the best?’

  ‘Perhaps, lord,’ I said and eyed him carefully, hoping for some sign on what he desired.

  He gave it. He turned to me and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, less gentle than Father’s had been, but more respectful. ‘I will spare him. Him, and your mother.’

  I blinked and felt the discussion had taken a dangerous turn. ‘Spare him, my lord? And my mother?’

  His eyes twinkled in the dark with mirth. ‘Come now, Maroboodus. You know what I mean. Hulderic thought I’d not keel over. And I won’t. And that means someone else has to. But it need not be your father. And no, I won’t sulk in my lands over the winter. I’ll make some moves now.’

  I didn’t say anything for a moment. I had planned on breaking away from the tribe with … Star-Flower, or whatever her real name was and I had felt there was something very sensible about Hughnot, not to mention him supporting me in the duel, but this was all too real. ‘I think I do know what you mean. And you won’t spare Bero?’

  ‘Would you care if I didn’t?’ he growled.

  ‘I’ll not betray Father,’ I said, without even thinking about it and I realized that’s where I drew the line, indeed. I looked at him and licked my lips. He was offering an easier way to do what I wanted to do. To be rid of Bero, to gather glory for the family, Father and I.

  He smiled and agreed. ‘I respect your father. He surprised me today, having been the second son in your grandfather’s family, though I knew he was a fine warrior. He finally stood up, a formerly silent, thinking man, and he spoke loudly, brazenly, and he has his men near, doesn’t he? I bet he didn’t want to give away the fact Bero had so many men here in Marka, and perhaps I might have been tempted at trying to take the ring. And the sword.’

  ‘You want the Head Taker as well?’ I asked him. ‘Surely it’s a fine blade.’

  ‘It’s the very best of blades, and it too, has a history,’ he said. ‘It takes lives, but it also enjoys taking the lives of the men in the family. The Boat–Lord fears it. He hates us and our small land here. But Hulderic. He is Bero’s sword. Yet, if you remove the head the sword may yet be of use. Wouldn’t you enjoy seeing him reach the clouds, your father?’

  ‘I’d like to see Father serve a higher purpose than Bero’s, indeed, lord.’

  He shrugged, and seemed happy I agreed. ‘In that case, call me lord, if you like, but my champions call me brother,’ he said steadily, his eyes flickering into the darkness, when the twins, Ingo and Ingulf were probably standing ready. ‘You call me brother as well.’ He opened up his fibula, a silver bear raging amidst flowers, an exquisite thing and took off his heavy bearskin cloak. He then draped it around me. Then he pulled out a short sword from his belt and showed it to me. It was heavy and fat in the hilts, a sturdy and serviceable killing weapon that would be deadly in a shieldwall. ‘I am not going to buy you. But I am giving you respect. Such respect you didn’t receive when you beat Maino into pulp. You are due some. Your father gave you an ax, because you deserved it. Let this join it, as a show of love for a fine warrior from his relative.’

  I stared at the sword feverishly. It was a kingly gift. Few warriors had such a weapon and my eyes went to the ax of my father. I felt like a fat bear tromping on the thin ice of a spring lake, about to plunge in. All I had wanted was to take the girl to the Svearna, marry her and then, if she had any powerful relatives, help Father rid himself of Bero and this man. And now the man was offering me another way. He said he would spare Hulderic, he’d give him respect. He did give respect to me. I eyed him and begged Woden to help me make a decision. I took a deep breath and spoke. ‘It is true I would like to be thanked when I deserve it. I would be married, I would have received the fine treasure I fought for in the battle, Cuthbert’s gear. I fought well and bravely. All I ask for is my lot, and when I deserve it. And I am not getting it while serving my family.’

  He nodded, sympathetic. ‘As I said, I will spare your father and grandmother,’ he stated like a kind grandfather speaking of a misplaced prank, except he was asking me to betray Father. ‘If you’ll help me overcome the lords and those in the family that would defy me, you will never lack thanks. This place of rulership, the silver bracelet and iron sword of a Thiuda is mine, Maroboodus. The ring and the sword belong to me. Marka? I helped build it, with my ax and strong arm and I bled for it. I was here when no Goth yet looked upon these woods, the long valleys and the glittering lakes, and I fought to free this land from them. I made the Long-Lake and its northern shores Goth land. Friednot had the ring, and that was fine, back then. And I don’t care about the family’s rules on how it gets inherited. It’s ours to change such rules. I’ve waited for it for such a long time.’ His eyes had lost focus and his cloak began to feel like the suffocating wings of a great raven as he spoke, almost to himself. ‘I looked at it, glimmering in his hand for twenty years, patiently, upkeeping our tribe’s honor and fame when he could, would have failed to do so for many times. That he heard of the Saxons and the girl and Boat-Lord scheming from a spy. It was a rare show of brilliance from him to capture her before the Saxons bartered her to the Svearna or the Boat-Lord, but mostly he was slow and dull. He always was. Did I not sit in our father’s hall, looking at the ring when I was but a boy, sitting in dirty hay and shit, thinking how one day, the first to marry would get it? Then I saw our father ruffling Friednot’s hair, never mine and so it was like it was with your father. Friednot was the loved son, and he had no love left for me. He married Friednot first, because Father willed it. I married later, and knew I’d never see it unless, one day, I changed the rules. Friednot was strong, I was wise and now I am strong and wise both, and your uncle, and your father would say I have no right to rulership?’ His compelling, terrible eyes turned to regard me, and I could not turn mine away. He pressed his hand on my shoulder, and if felt like a ton of rocks. ‘What say you? Should I have the ring? And the rulership?’

  I struggled. I wanted to say it was his, should be his and would it not be just to think so, as he had waited for it for such a long time? Yes, it would. He had kept the two gaus alive, held our Goths strong in battles I knew nothing at all about, helped guard the lands, to expand them, to make us rich and independent.

  It should have been easy to say yes.

  But still, I hesitated.

  I also had sat in dirt and cobwebs of our halls during feasts, wondering at the fine, golden thing Esla and Aska once carried. I had done what he had, and like Hughnot said, why would such a decision, the ownership of a mighty relic be dictated by fairness? Did gods endorse fairness? Was life fair? No, it was not. It was cruel as winter’s blow, merciless like freezing water, and then I hardened my heart to his promises. I began to deny his right to rule. I wanted to. I would not bow to him anymore than I’d bow to Father’s wishes.

  I had planned to be a lord, none above me.

  And that’s what I would be.

  I opened my mouth to deny him.

  But then a spirit of a wily nightfox whispered to me in the darkness. It spoke of caution. It had no words, but I felt it tugging at my hem. Hughnot was wily and clever, and also ruthless. I felt cold fingers hold my heart as I knew there were men in the dark, ready to kill me.

  I had to say yes.

  I would be careful and despite the many dangers, I still had my plan. It was supremely hard to abandon a less dangerous road, to give away promised support and honor and companionship, and exchange it all for fear and uncertainty, but I was willing to bet few old Germani heroes, sitting ancient, smelling of ale and farts and scarred in their smoky halls, rich and affluent and famed, ever took the easy road.

  I’d lie.

  I n
odded. ‘I think you should have the ring and the rulership, indeed. And I should help you.’ The words were surprisingly easy to utter, and I had a hunch lying was not hard for Hughnot either.

  ‘I should, Maroboodus, yes I should have them. And I do thank you for your words.’

  ‘I’ll help you, if Hulderic retains his honor and fame, not to mention his life. ’His eyes lit up. ‘What would you have me do?’ I heard myself asking, terrified of his answer. He might, after all, set guards on me for whatever he planned for me to do. And it might take place that very night.

  His eyes twinkled and he regarded me, deep in his thoughts. I began to wonder if he had any real plan, but was making it all up as he went along.

  But no, he had a plan all right.

  Mine.

  ‘I will want you to be married.’

  ‘All men marry, lord,’ I said carefully. ‘Though I’d not be tied to some terrible, if noble old broomstick.’

  He laughed hugely and happily and clapped a hand over his mouth as he glanced furtively around the dark, and turned to look at me with a wink. ‘That is the thing with you young men. All you think about is the bliss, but in the end you will start to go hunting, join a war band of some ferocious boat-lord and hope to endure the winters when the children crawl over your legs and back, and your wife cannot stop jabbering. But it is the mistake every man must endure, and serving me,’ he said with a smile that made him look like he was thirsty for blood, ‘you will at least get to go and make war when home becomes a burden. You will marry this Svea girl. You will marry her tomorrow.’

  ‘How will I marry her tomorrow?’ I asked in wonderment. ‘I’m to be banished tomorrow, not married. There will be a boat’s bench, and I’ll be hugging a thick oar, and hear words of Harmod, no doubt, not the willowy voice of that wonderful girl.’

  He chuckled. ‘If I had not seen you fight so well, I’d think you are more suited for that Aldbert’s job, singing of birds, and love.’

  ‘He sings of spears, meat parting, and death as well as kisses of fair maidens,’ I told him sullenly.

  He nodded. ‘He is a fine one for the art, I know. But you need to forget such thoughts of cozy love for now, and concentrate on the issue at hand. We will need you to fetch her. She has to be freed, and you might do it, now that Maino is not constantly hovering nearby. They carried him to the vitka’s hut and there he will stay for a while. You fetch the girl. She is important. Like the Boat-Lord intended to use her, so can we. She will give us peace, at least from some Svea clans. She might give us warriors.’ He looked at me and I was terrified he had read my mind and was only torturing me. My hair was standing on my neck, but he went on. ‘Then you will drape her over a horse, make sure she won’t scream—‘

  ‘Why would she—‘

  ‘She might, if she has fallen in love with some finer, or at least a more handsome warrior than Maino, and she might not wish to go back. I’ve had that happen to me once. There was a girl who asked me to free her from her father, but when I got there, and sneaked to her bedside, she had married that very day and I had to clobber the husband in order to get away. Terrible mess, boy. Father had to pay a high wergild.’ He poked a finger at my chest. ‘You know nothing of her, really, Maroboodus. It’s going to be an adventure for later times when you get to know her, but now, we need her for our alliance.’ My heart fluttered and I felt blush conquer my cheeks. He was right. I was premature. He smiled and sighed, amused by my struggles. ‘You will fetch her to a cove not far from here.’ He pointed a finger over the hilly shadows of the night. ‘There are crags on the beach there. Take her there this night. Hide. Hide well. They should be busy here in Marka, but they might be more determined to find her than I think they would. And we shall row by later in the morning to pick you lot up.’

  ‘And if I marry her and serve you, you will make war on our family,’ I stated. ‘You will want Draupnir’s Spawn, and Head Taker. But what then?’ That was the big question. So far, he had only been rewarding me with the sword and the girl.

  He smiled wistfully. ‘Oh, I will want more than your service. It will not suffice to topple those… Bear Goths. You see, the Svearna tie us down, and keep us looking over our shoulders, when our distant cousin, the man they call Boat-Lord, rules rich parts of the Gothonia Islands. He has been busy in the south, and has been fighting with some savages across the eastern sea for a decade, but sooner or later he will come and land on these shores, as this failed marriage proves. He will have ten thousand men, and thousands he will send here to Marka, to split our lands up. He will still try to ally with the Svearna. Our spies in Hogholm, his capital told Friednot so. And if he wanted the girl,’ he nodded towards Bone-Hall, ‘then he is getting ready to make a move. That is why I am doing this, Maroboodus. For all of us. We will stop him.’

  I stared across the dark sea for the old enemy of our family, and family in truth. The man was rich, his hall called the Silver Anvil, and while the reasons for the split in the family were never discussed, there was something sinister about it. Hughnot followed my gaze, and nodded appreciatively at my hidden thoughts. ‘I’ll tell you more about our ancient home one day. For now, I will make alliances. I will build our two gaus into ten stronger ones. I’ll use you and the girl to pacify, nay, to find allies from amidst the Svearna, and build hill-forts all across this land. I’ll build boats as well, hold Draupnir and call for Boat-Lord’s oath men to join us. Some will. I shall take our men over the sea to our Gothoni islands, and conquer there without mercy. I’ll piss on his hall’s fireplace while he quakes in terror.’

  I saw his vision, and a part of me ached with disappointment, my decision hard pressed to be kept. His words echoed with wisdom, with strength, with unwavering confidence. I could see him, in the fore of hundred long boats, holding an ax, guiding his men to Hogholm’s harbor, and I could taste the mead of the fine feast he would set in the hall. And I could be there, standing next to Ingo, Ingulf, Hrolf? I could, I surely could. He saw me licking my lips, my hands trembling with his vision. ‘Then, to the south. We shall row there. We shall pacify the treacherous Langobardi and carve ourselves a piece of rich land worth being proud of. We can rule the coasts, and who knows, you serve Hrolf and see far greater glories. The Goths are not meant to ride the waves of this gray, frigid sea forever, no. It might be the gods holy water, the sea of their tears, and yea, Freya’s golden ones litter its beaches. But gold flows elsewhere and there are old and famed, warm lands in the south. I am tired, Maroboodus, of being the Black Goth. What is that? A lord of lamb-herders? A king of a hamlet? I wish to be the Red Goth, and the forefather of a dynasty that will echo across lands and time itself. And Bero? He would hold the ring and till the land in peace? Bah!’

  It sounded ridiculous. Bero, and Father had erred.

  ‘And you will be one of the dozens of great men with a high hall in lands that once nourished our enemies. You will sit on a throne, give gifts of stolen gold to lords like my champions, you will lead men into battles of shieldwalls. Not dozens, but thousands. You see, I am old, Maroboodus, and Hrolf will need you and other young men like you when he matures into a high man. When my pyre burns, somewhere far one day, make sure you will make Hrolf a king, a Thiuda of note. And for this, you will be rich and married to a dream.’ He smiled. ‘Though, I will warn you again, nightmares often have such nice hips and sultry lips.’

  ‘I will risk it,’ I said softly, struggling mightily with my conflict, but I was also grateful to him.

  I’d not make Hrolf my king. I’d take his dreams and make them mine.

  ‘Kneel, son of Hulderic,’ he said harshly, blushed by his own dreams.

  I nodded and kneeled. ‘I will. Lord. My father …‘

  ‘Will live. He will fight us, Maroboodus, but will he fight his son? I know him. He blusters and is the fighter of the Bear Goths, but when his son faces him across a shield rim? He will not fight. Not well, at least. He will live. We will capture him and give him honor. Serve me, serve Hrolf, Marob
oodus. And he will join us. I know he will.’

  I thought of his fanatical belief in the prophecy, and frowned. I was not sure Hughnot was right, not at all. ‘You wish an oath? I give it,’ I said, feeling twangs of regret over the whole situation.

  ‘You are mine, then,’ he said happily.

  ‘And how will I take the Svea to the cove? She is in the Bone-Hall?’

  He leaned on me. ‘Ask your Aldbert to guide you. She is guarded by a woman in the Bone-Hall and he is a poet. He will go and make a song about the princess, or even the hag, and when he charms them, you will follow. You will lead her out, while the crone swoons over Aldbert’s charm. Or just tie her up. Use your imagination. Or the sword.’ He nodded at the weapon and I felt uneasy over such a terrible suggestion. ‘You will lead her out. The woman guarding her is old. Feeble.’

  ‘The Bone-Hall will have guards,’ I stated. ‘She might scream and warn them, and then it will go terribly wrong, and we shall be captured—‘

  ‘No. Nobody will hear her as she struggles.’ He smiled like an evil spirit, his mouth half open, tongue flicking in the maw.

  ‘Why not?’ I asked him, boding ill.

  ‘There will be a fire in the hall just to the north of here. Everyone will rush to help them,’ Hrolf said from the dark, probably too loudly and even Hughnot frowned. He shrugged at me and my shocked face.

  ‘He has a thing or two to learn of subtlety,’ he said with a grin. ‘A thing or two that he will learn, I know.’

  ‘When?’ I asked, afraid. ‘The fire, I mean.’

  ‘An hour from now,’ Hughnot said, squinting to the sky. ‘Talk to Aldbert and nod at Ingulf. He will be keeping an eye on you for a time. If Aldbert refuses, you will wear this cloak tight around you and do the deed anyway. This is the night for brave deeds and yours shall be just one of them. You have already started, oh wily lord of holes.’

  I didn’t deny having dug the hole, and I didn’t have to. They had probably seen it. ‘It shall be the first of many such deeds all through your lifetime under the family banner, and when I’m the Red Goth, you will hear them sung in your hall. Say “yes”.’