The Winter Sword: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 3)

Home > Historical > The Winter Sword: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 3) > Page 8
The Winter Sword: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 3) Page 8

by Alaric Longward


  Ketill kicked me.

  I nearly fell, and my strike went past Ragwald as I stumbled over his legs. The Batavi hissed with disgust at the cheater.

  Ragwald grinned as he turned to see me slipping, trying to regain balance. ‘You might be Leuthard’s Bane! But you are also Ragwald’s Prey!’ He made a mocking attack and pushed me with his other hand, and the ax swished in. I jumped back, cursing, and his ax came down fast, splitting my tunic and slashing my buckle so the metal showed a bright scratch. He was herding me into the corner, and his men were scattering as he did, his longer, surprisingly fast weapon threatening me relentlessly, and he sensed his victory for he was smiling in an unholy joy. The ax came up again, and he stepped forward, the blade came down in a spine shattering strike as I pushed my blade at his face. I hit his chest, drawing blood, and his ax strike was made incomplete as he flinched and dodged away, but he came back very fast and kicked me against the wall. The ax went up stubbornly. I had no room to maneuver.

  I would not be able to survive it.

  I could punch the blade at him again, but he would take the wound, the ax would come down, and Woden knows how that would end.

  I prayed and threw my sword.

  It was a mad, idiotic move. You never, ever throw a sword. The sword is what keeps you alive, and any Roman drill officer would have killed himself in disgust at what I did, but it was also a very unexpected move. And I knew my blade, and the act served me well.

  Ragwald screamed.

  His ax thudded to the floor before me, and he was no longer holding it. His face was twisted in supreme agony, surprise, and horror, and I saw Nightbright was sunk on his shoulder, blood oozing from a wicked wound. His arm hung uselessly on his side. I stepped forward, grasped the hilt and pulled it out savagely. His eyeballs went white as he crumbled on the floor, shuddering, and I kicked him for good measure. I put the blade on his throat and eyed his men. ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what, cur?’ Ketill asked.

  ‘We are leaving. Give way,’ I snarled.

  He shrugged and laughed. ‘No. Come now. Don’t be a fool, eh? We missed the coins of your Antius, Roman, but I bet you are not poor.’

  I retreated to stand next to Fulcher, and the Batavi covered me with their shields. Ketill nodded, the thick shield wall tightened and men hefted their spears overhead. We would die, and I regretted not killing Ragwald, who was moaning on the floor.

  ‘Enough,’ said a voice from the guarded door. Everyone turned to look at the man who was leaning weakly on a doorframe. He was tall and wide of shoulders, his beard and hair were nearly white, and his skin was pale. He was bandaged around his torso, and I remembered the terrible wound he had taken from my sword, the Head Taker, running from his armpit to his hip, rending armor and flesh. That he was alive, was a miracle.

  He was Rochus, Armin’s brother, and the man I had fought not so long past. His eyes glittered in spite at Ketill. ‘You kicked him in a duel.’

  ‘He is our enemy. A Roman!’ Ketill hissed.

  ‘And what business did your Lord, Segestes the Germani, have with him?’ Rochus asked with grim mockery. ‘Segestes is all but Roman and was only going to do some fighting out of fear for Sigimer.’ He spat on the floor, and some ten men of his came out to support him. I recognized some as the ones who had dragged him away from the battle.

  ‘Lord—’ Ketill began.

  ‘Get the Hel out of this hall you claim to guard, you mead thief,’ Rochus said with such malice Ketill went white from the face. ‘Take the moaning bitch and go. Or I shall have you executed without a Thing and judges and mercy.’

  A hollow promise, for death was a rare punishment in Germania, and Rochus only had ten men. But Ketill knew he was Armin’s brother and Armin had suddenly grown to match his father Sigimer and the high lords of the Cherusci in fame. Ketill bowed stiffly and his men dragged the groaning Ragwald off. We waited until they left the building, and Rochus was whispering to his men. Some nodded and ran to the stables, and I could hear our beasts were being made ready. ‘Come, sit,’ Rochus said and staggered to the table by the fire pit. ‘I will, for my part. I’m hurt, you see. A filthy boar gorged me.’ His eyes laughed as he was complimenting me, and I liked his face, calm, clear and intelligent.

  I walked over and sat next to him while staring at him. I took a deep breath and bowed to him. ‘Thank you.’

  He snorted. ‘Thank you? I suppose you should. You took my damned standard in the battle, nearly eviscerated me and now I saved you? In the battle, I even told you where your daughter is to be found, and I hear you saved her, even if you lost her again. You should indeed thank me. You should kiss my wart ridden ass and smile like a child who just received his first mug of ale.’ I smiled at him, but I doubt it resembled anything like a child with a horn of fresh ale, but rather like a child trying to hold down ale for the first time. ‘Never mind,’ he groaned. ‘You look like a fool. Just stop smiling.’ I did.

  ‘I am thankful, Rochus. I might hate your brother and our relative Catualda, the man whom my father schemed with, but not you. You fought well.’

  ‘Your great uncle’s son and our distant relative,’ he nodded. ‘I dislike the worm. He wanted your family’s great ring, this Woden’s Gift so we could be free of the Suebi wars. I know he stole it from you and your Father and brought it here. I saw it, held it even. Then you took it back. Armin should not have sent it across Rhenus to sway the Roman Germani. I hear he ran into you? Ever since, Catualda has been growing arrogant, fey, hard to trust. He is a toad.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know,’ I said. ‘But now I lost the ring to Odo.’

  ‘Ah!’ he said as he groaned in his seated position. He stubbornly stayed seated, even if I saw he would have loved to lie down, and I admired the pale warrior’s toughness. ‘Armin would kill for it.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I nearly did kill Drusus for him. He wanted the ring back and would have handed me Lif. He also offered me a place with you.’

  ‘I’m happy you did not kill the Roman General,’ he said, his dark eyes probing me.

  ‘You are? Why?’ I asked, surprised.

  ‘You chose to be a Roman. Why?’

  I shrugged, confused. ‘I would never have found my place with the Germani again. My mistakes make it hard to find acceptance this side of the river,’ I told him honestly. ‘I came back after I dealt with Vago. I burned Maroboodus’s hall, raised a war against him and ruined his reputation like he ruined mine. But my fame was gone. Then I had Lif, and nothing mattered anymore. Only she did. And my honor. Which Fulcher there,’ I nodded at the tall warrior standing and staring at me, ‘taught me is not the same as fame.’

  ‘Wise man,’ Rochus said and grinned at Fulcher. The man grinned back. He rarely smiled at people, and now he grinned. Rochus had that effect on people.

  ‘Why did you save me?’ I asked him bluntly. ‘I doubt Armin would agree. I tried to have him killed after the battle.’

  ‘I have not seen Armin since we fled the field,’ he laughed painfully. ‘But I hear you did. I spared you for I respect you and your honor. I stayed here, as I know Drusus will be near soon. Is that not so?’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed, wondering. ‘We bought food and Drusus hopefully bought us a victory in the battle that is sure to take place on the rivers.’ I looked at him and wondered if I had just ruined all the plans of Drusus.

  ‘I think you are right,’ he agreed. ‘Segestes hates Armin. For Thusnelda, his daughter, for his jealousy for Sigimer, his brother. He has a desire to be more than the least martial of the brothers, and I think Drusus will give him what he wants. I know not. But I wish to surrender to Drusus.’

  ‘I see,’ I told him, wonder filling my voice. ‘And you need a sponsor?’

  ‘Do you think he will have me?’ he asked anxiously. ‘And are you a good sponsor? You might have spilled wine on his lap or tried to seduce his daughter?’

  ‘I’ve done nothing of the sort,’ I grinned and then sobered. ‘Why do you wish to go?�
�� I stared at him, and he gave nothing away. ‘You have everything here. You are a mighty man with men to command. Riches and lands and women to choose from.’ There was a note of worry in my voice. Was this another plot of Armin to kill Drusus?

  He leaned closer and put a hand on my shoulder. ‘I am not Armin’s creature, even if he is my brother. I’m the second son. I am Sigimer’s least favorite boy and Hraban? I wish to see the wide world. I wish to be rid of the itchy woods and icy cold rivers and see what there is out there for me. Sun, adventure, riches? And fear not. I am no murderer to tell you lies and then attempt to slay Drusus. I know that is what you fear. Will he have me? I am Armin’s brother, and it will embarrass my brother, at least.’

  I looked into his eyes and saw the desire there. He truly wished to be away. ‘Drusus loves warriors, Rochus. And I’m sure he will have you.’ He grinned fiercely and hugged me happily, and I thought life was so strange.

  ‘Shall we?’ Rochus asked, getting up. His bandages were seeping, and I scowled. He rolled his eyes. ‘I have a mother, Hraban; you don’t have to scowl like that. I’ll bleed a bit, or a lot and will survive. It’s not infected. You keep your swords clean, I think, and its not as bad as it probably looked.’ His eyes went to the Head Taker on my side. ‘Old and famous weapon that,’ he said.

  ‘Fulcher does it for me,’ I admitted, and Rochus bowed to Fulcher again, and the idiot grinned back. ‘Cleans it.’

  ‘Mighty weapon, clean or dirty,’ he agreed, bending to touch the hilt. I let him. He pulled away as if startled. ‘It yearns for blood. It’s a sword that drives you to vengeance, I think. Is it evil? Perhaps.’

  ‘It’s a sword,’ I growled. ‘It is my tool, not the other way around.’

  He nodded thoughtfully, hesitantly, and that made me scowl. My sword was the gift of Hulderic, my grandfather. Then Father had taken it. It had carved a scar into my face, deep and wide. It had been used to dupe us into believing Maroboodus was dead. True, I had killed with it. But it was only a piece of metal. Rochus smiled thinly to dispel the sudden somber mood. ‘Who was that fat bastard with you?’ Rochus asked as his men brought his gear. His chain mail was still rent, his spear and shield in fine condition, and they packed like maniacs.

  ‘Antius. An enemy Nero Claudius Drusus used to gain Segestes’s support. But I was to kill him after we left,’ I told him as I tried to dispel his words about my sword.

  Rochus smiled. ‘I like your Drusus. Or was it your idea? His? Ah, this Antius anticipated his sad fate and nearly had you killed instead. The seedy, seemingly helpless bastards are always surprising,’ Rochus said with a wince as he swooned from pain.

  ‘Before we left, I asked for a friend to follow us. I doubt Antius got far. It was an … insurance.’ I said that word in Latin.

  ‘What is that?’ Rochus asked. ‘An insurance?’

  ‘It’s this fund you pay into, and then when you die you can get buried and your family will be taken care of. I thought he might try to get me killed, and I wanted to make sure he died no matter what happened here.’

  ‘Well,’ he smiled. ‘You have made me an insurance for yourself in the future. I will not forget your help. I hope he didn’t take a boat,’ Rochus said with a groan.

  ‘We will see,’ I told him, now worried Antius had indeed gone by ship.

  We left the village and scowling Ketill behind, and I smiled as I heard Ragwald raging in terrible pain.

  In a bit of a day, we found Antius. And Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso.

  Gnaeus was wearing his red cloak and a chain mail. His bored face had a rare hint of interest as his cursing Syrians and Parthians were struggling with the worm-like writhing mass of naked Antius. We sat on our horses near the army of Drusus. The dust of the two legions could be seen clearly, and I sensed Rochus was getting anxious. I reassured him with a smile and turned back to the face of Antius. It was not easy to get the huge man to sit on the sturdiest horse Gnaeus had brought, especially since the fat man was putting on a fight. His face was lathered in sweat, and his eyes were agog in incomprehensible terror. ‘Is the rope thick enough?’ Gnaeus asked. ‘Patrax?’ The Syrian called Patrax was cursing as he began pummeling Antius’s midsection to calm him down. Antius threw up all his breakfast on the neck of the poor horse that tried to bite the Syrians hovering around it. They finally managed to slip a thick rope around the neck of Antius and men tightened it until the Roman could only sit still. The Gaul servants were hanging nearby, their faces ashen and dead and gave Antius a good idea what was in store for him.

  ‘It will do,’ Fulcher said happily from the side.

  ‘Hraban? Anything you wish to say?’ Gnaeus asked inanely, looking at his fingernails. ‘I caught him for you though he nearly got away. Rides surprisingly fast, the bastard. Had nothing of worth so this is good fun only.’ Gnaeus had no conscience. In this case, he needed none, I thought.

  I rode around Antius, dodging the auxilia and hated the man despite his plight. ‘I have nothing. I have precious little to tell you. You mocked me once when Vago took me, and you have ever tried to hurt me and my family, but I don’t even know you. Only that you deserve this. Anything you wish to say, Antius?’

  ‘I hoped you would ride far and live happily,’ he said with a strangled voice. ‘Remember?’

  I shrugged. ‘I will go, one day. You will not.’

  He stuttered and visibly calmed himself. ‘Did you wish to know about Drusus and my mistress?’

  ‘No, not really,’ I answered him. ‘Drusus has a good idea who it is. I don’t care.’

  ‘You will regret not listening.’ Antius grinned. ‘And you will regret this.’ I saw Fulcher frowning and knew he had a premonition. I hesitated, shook my head at him, and enjoyed the hope dying on Antius’s fat face.

  I smiled up at him. ‘You underestimated me, Antius. People who do, tend to find trouble, and some fall victims to their arrogance. I might regret many things in the future, but you will not see me do so. You will see dark shades of Hel.’

  ‘I’ll haunt you, son of Maroboodus,’ he said with resignation. ‘I will.’

  Gnaeus nodded lazily at his men, and the man called Patrax whipped the horse savagely. It bolted, and a Parthian rode after it wildly.

  Antius swung around, his stubby legs trying to find a spot that would spare him his fate. There were none to be found. His face went red, his lips were thin, and the rope burrowed deep into his neck as he choked. The tree was groaning, and the Syrians and the Parthians were smacking their lips in some strange form of approval. I shook my head at his slow death and rode away.

  In the evening, we marched through the vast camp for the praetorium of Drusus. He grinned at me and tilted his head at Rochus, trying to place the face.

  ‘I have seen you,’ he wondered. ‘You were with … ’ He stopped to think hard.

  I nodded at Rochus. ‘He is Armin’s brother. He wants to join you.’ Drusus grinned even wider and walked over to the young, wounded man. He looked at me over Rochus’s shoulder, and I nodded. Antius was gone and yes, I trusted Rochus.

  So, we had a feast for the food was beginning to roll in, and I told Drusus Segestes had agreed to help us in the battle. We were full of hope as we marched on for the Bhugnos River.

  BOOK 2: THE FOX AND THE PIG

  ‘In order for a young lord to become the leader of such a nation as this one, he has to become its oldest lord.’

  Thusnelda to Hraban

  CHAPTER 6

  Chariovalda came to check on the guards at the next march camp. He spotted me staring east in the last evening light and smiled thinly as I was leaning on my horse, in the middle of caring for the beast. ‘You recruited the scoundrels of Gnaeus?’

  ‘They make good scouts,’ I answered, rousing myself and stroking the horse down. I gazed again at the far away river land that was heaving to sight from under a thick layer of fog.

  ‘And the Batavi do not make great scouts?’ he said with some jealous disapproval. ‘You know we are in a fi
erce competition with the Thracians and those eastern bastards. Next time take more of our boys.’

  ‘Yes, Chariovalda,’ I told him. ‘I have no men of my own so I took the ones you gave and added a bit of fun to it. Gnaeus is one ruthless man.’

  ‘He is half mad,’ Chariovalda said, grinning in agreement. ‘But so are you so perhaps you did make a good team. But use the Batavi next time, yes? I do not want to see them grow fat and lazy. Though I think we will see action soon.’ He scratched his chin. ‘So, you are a Decurion in my troop. I had no say on it, I was just told that is the case, but I suppose you earned it. A Decurion commands twenty men. I will give you none of mine. Not right now. I cannot as I don’t have any to spare. Can you get your own? We lost a lot of men,’ he said unhappily and then scowled at my silence. ‘Your daughter?’ he asked. ‘That’s what is making you timid like a virgin maiden meeting a drunken suitor?’

  ‘Taken to the Cherusci lands. Godsmount.’

  ‘Then we will see her soon,’ he said cheerfully and scowled again as I made no sound. ‘Your Ishild and Odo?’ he asked carefully.

  ‘Segestes said Odo is hiding in his ancestral home somewhere near. They did not find Lif,’ I told him. ‘As they did not find her, then he is likely seething and regretting letting me go.’

  ‘This prophecy,’ he rumbled. ‘What part is unfulfilled?’

  I shook my shoulders. ‘It is not certain if the final road has begun. What is certain is that Odo and Ishild made a child, so did Ishild and I, and I have bled on a rocky skin. That was Leuthard’s hand. Odo said it is so. Now he followed her to the east, thinking I had led them to the final road. He took my Woden’s Gift, or Ringlet like the prophecy calls this mysterious item, and here we are.’

  ‘There was a raven and a bear,’ Fulcher called from the side.

  ‘Sneaky bastard,’ Chariovalda said and waved at the man. ‘Go on.’

  ‘There is a raven and a bear,’ I told him. ‘But as for Woden’s Gift, the goddess speaking with Bero dying lips said it is not golden. So I think the ring is meaningless. If they pour Veleda’s blood on it, we will not be destroyed and no cocks will crow. That is part of the lines, as well. Cocks will crow ere the end. I suppose they will raise the armies of Ragnarök or something similar.’

 

‹ Prev