I grabbed my head and my thoughts were whirling. Oril nodded. ‘There is a way to keep even the Raven from being too much trouble in troubling times.’
‘He is after Cassia?’ I asked Oril thickly. ‘She is guarded. No!’
He shook his head, almost sadly. ‘Nobody is guarded enough if one is determined enough. And they know Lothar, don’t they. They won’t be very alarmed.’
I got up in panic and saw him smiling at me, trying to inch away. Tudrus saw it as well and crouched over him. ‘Hraban is not much of a seer,’ the Quadi told Oril savagely and twisted his head with simple brutality, the neck making a vicious grating sound.
‘I wanted to do that!’ Hund complained, but Tudrus cut him off as I rushed outside and jumped on the surprised horse.
The others followed after us, and I was cursing myself for being an idiot. ‘Woden, let my wyrd be kind. Let her be unharmed. May Fenfir swallow Paullus and that bastard Lothar.’
‘Go!’ Tudrus screamed.
We raced for the castra.
Far away, we could hear the legion’s buccina as they wound their way closer. We reached the gate and there, a cohort was getting ready to receive the Consul and the Batavi were readying their horses. ‘Look!’ Brimwulf screamed and pointed towards the east. I made a desperate sound of a wounded beast, for there, not far, I saw many men riding, and with them, I saw Cassia’s long hair. Mathildis was riding behind them, one man leading her horse.
‘Who are they?’ I screamed at Lucius, the centurion marching his men back and forth, trying to make the rogues look respectable. His face snapped to me, then at the men riding away.
‘It is Cassia; they were bringing her to you! They said you were hurt,’ Lucius said, alerting the Batavi, who all turned their helmeted faces towards the riding men and Cassia. There, amongst the riding were the two Batavi guarding Cassia. One turned to look at me, and then I saw a blond man throwing back his cape, and I witnessed Lothar’s pale face. He flicked his fist and the Batavi were stabbed from all sides. Cassia’s face was one of shock as the men fell from the horses. Mathildis was struggling with her beast, the man pulling it along.
‘Lothar!’ I screamed. He did not turn. Cassia was pulling at her horse, her face a mask of terror, but she was hopelessly outmatched as the four men around her hefted their bloody weapons and grabbed her horse, riding on each side of her.
‘Hraban!’ Tudrus screamed at me. ‘Cassia!’
‘Follow me,’ I yelled and I spurred my horse as the Batavi contingent looked on in confusion. The Tribune was screaming something after me, but I rode after Lothar, scared to death for Cassia.
‘What are you doing?’ Tudrus screamed at me, his brothers barreling after us. ‘They will kill her if we attack!’
‘They shall not take her there! I’ll die with her!’ I screamed back. ‘You can stay here if you fear the dark!’
He hissed at me. ‘Of course I won’t! But we must catch them before the night falls.’
‘We have a day and a half to catch the fuckers!’ I panted and whipped the poor horse.
Brimwulf grunted near me. ‘If they hurt Mathildis, I’ll rip their hearts out.’
Tudrus panted. ‘At least we won’t be alone.’
I glanced behind us and saw the entire turma of Batavi take after us, following Hund’s vexillum. They looked fey and dangerous, their shields banging on their back, spears hefted, and I nodded at Hund who made a throat cutting motion at the fleeing enemy. For Cassia? For me? Or for the men that had died? I did not care. They were there for us. Paellus was staring after us, his face horrified.
There are moments, Lord Thumelicus, when everything falls apart.
All your plans and hopes taste like dust and dirt, and all you can do is to beg to recover that one precious thing that truly matters. I saw Cassia trying to break free, glancing back at me, and then I saw Lothar hit her gleefully and she went limp on the saddle. The man with Mathildis was struggling with the woman, who jumped down from the horse, landing heavily and got up to rush back. The man turned to her and pulled a framea. ‘No!’ Brimwulf screamed.
I grabbed my heavy spear and spurred the horse to a near impossible speed. The man stalking Mathildis was clearly mad, uncaring of his own fate as he licked his lips in anticipation of a kill. The arm went up, the framea quivered as he prepared to throw it at the running woman, and I begged to the gods as I threw the heavy spear. It spun in the air, hung low and came down. It hit the horse of the man on the side and it whinnied wildly, throwing its rear up, spilling the rider over its neck. I saw Agetan pull Sigimer’s ax and ride for the man, who was getting up. The ax went up, and then I saw no more as I spurred after the enemy holding Cassia.
We were not gaining on them.
Their horses were good, excellent even, the best available, and they knew the land and plunged into the wooded valleys and hills with cool familiarity. Happily, Brimwulf knew the land very well, and the enemy did not escape entirely, even if they were out of sight occasionally. I feared the night, I feared the thought of losing them and what they would do to her. I wept and raged and hit my horse on the flanks, not gaining on them at all. ‘Don’t give up!’ a burly Batavi screamed at me from behind, and I was nodding, hoping against all hope not to lose my mind. The sun trekked the sky, lower and lower. The color of the faraway clouds hinted at the approaching night. We slunk through the forests and rocky hill sides, through tight game trails. We passed small trails leading past high crags and had to slow down, but so did Lothar. In the wild lands before the valleys next to the Buck, we managed to catch up some and his preference to luxury did him ill justice for when we broke free of the woods to a lush valley, he was again closer, and I saw his face was ashen with fatigue. His guides were urging him on, and he yelled at them.
Their horses gave a mighty push, and they sped along.
Thus we rode, whipping the beasts. Right when the night fell, a horse of one of the men ahead stepped on a hole, and he fell heavily under the screaming beast, not getting up. We steered past him, and I met Lothar’s eyes as he looked behind. He was cursing, I could see it, and he must have cursed Oril for failing. And then the night fell, a sliver of the sun casting some final light on the land as the wolf Sköll chased the horses Arvakr and Alsovior, dragging the sun after it. Up came Mani, the moon, which the wolf Hati chased across the sky, and we despaired, for there was a cast of clouds filling the sky.
We lost sight of our quarry.
‘That way. That is the best road!’ Brimwulf yelled, pointing at some elevated ground and indeed, a hint of a trail could be seen. We rode forward at a pace which seemed very slow to me. We rode listening to the sounds of the night, saw villages pass by, our men riding through them with alert eyes. There was a scream up ahead. Cassia. We spurred the horses to a greater speed.
Thus, we played that night. We lit torches we stole from halls and houses, rode and herded the enemy. We found one of his men who had fallen behind and left him on the ground, dead and hacked open. Many times, we were close to losing them. But always, thanks to Woden and Brimwulf, a sight or sign of them or their passing was found, and suddenly there were no clouds to hamper us as the moon lit the sky.
It was the longest, scariest night of my life.
Then, in the morning, the divine horses pulled the sun back up to the sky, and we saw Lothar and his last man spurring ahead, Cassia still slung over a saddle. Our horses protested, but we caught glimpses of the glistening Buck River, and so we were close. I still had seventeen men and my friends with me as one man had fallen behind in the night. All of the ones riding after me were exhausted but determined. We followed our enemy and finally reached the river, and there Lothar splashed into the ford where some Suebi traders were crossing, screaming for them to get out of his way. Some men fell into the river, animals scattered. Then they saw our troop with our spear points glinting, charging for them, and the merchants all went in, swimming for their lives.
Lothar turned south, to the woods and s
mall hills, and in the distance, I thought I saw the ridge holding Gulldrum.
‘Don’t let them get in!’ I screamed. ‘All you got, boys!’
But Lothar kept his distance.
An hour later, the hill was reaching up before us, and I despaired. The curly haired Lothar tugged at his last man, and cursed. That man was shaking his head, but finally relented, prayed visibly and turned to face us. He was shaking in fear but lifted his club and rode at us. I welcomed him with a scream of hate, hewing mightily with the Winter Sword. The blade cut through his arm into the horse that rolled away. The man fell under the Batavi hooves. ‘Lothar! Come! Your turn!’ I yelled at him.
Hund was riding next to me. ‘We will not make it!’
‘We will ride through Hel if we must, and if any man wants to stay out of it, let him!’ I yelled, but the Batavi grinned grimly. The road narrowed as we went up. A man perked up from a stone he had been sitting at, one of Odo’s men. Brimwulf skillfully stopped his horse and shot him through his chest, and the enemy fell out of sight. Lothar’s horse shied and trembled ahead, and we gained on him. Brimwulf was aiming his bow. ‘Shoot the fucker!’ I screamed.
‘I might hit her!’ Brimwulf answered desperately, for Cassia was now between him and us.
I cursed and turned to the men behind us. ‘After them. Inside, and put the bastards to the sword and spear. Steel to the belly of all the men in there and don’t let them hack her down!’ They yelled hoarsely and spurred their horses and not one shied away. Ahead of us, we saw Lothar’s horse surge forward with its last vestiges of strength, and we saw the open maw of Gulldrum. He went in, his face jubilant. We saw two men emerge from each side of the gate, staring after him, and then they turned to look at us. Their eyes were open in shock. ‘Haiaah!’ I screamed and whipped Moon so hard it whinnied in pain and in I went, riding over one of the guards.
The hall was dark though there were torches fluttering around, and up ahead I saw Lothar turning his horse, screaming at a dozen men approaching him carefully. The Batavi entered with their lathered horses, helmets and chainmail glinting in the torchlight, the unit signum a shadowy, tall finger of death. The enemy looked at us in confusion, and they likely did not know Lothar either; Odo’s guides were dead. He was just one man, and most of the enemy turned to stare at us, wondering whether we were with the bastard or just intruders. Lothar was screaming at them to make sure they understood the latter was the case. The enemy began to turn to face us, their faces shocked, and we saw spears and axes come up hesitantly.
The pale faced Lothar dismounted and turned to Cassia, whose horse was being held by a bald man. I hit my horse, forcing it forward. My men followed me, and I shivered in savage delight at the screams of Agetan and Bohscyld, feral and bloodthirsty. The groups of men and horses mingled in a savage battle in a stony hall. My horse bit at a man, I hacked down with the Winter Sword at another and hissed as I guided Moon forth. He gleefully rammed Lothar’s animal, which bolted, pulling the bald man to the floor. Finally, my horse bit Cassia’s horse, throwing her out of the saddle to a shadow of a pillar. The bald man got up dizzily and thrust at me with a broken spear, tugging at my chainmail, and I hacked at his face, taking off his lip and jaw. I turned the horse around and around and noted all the Batavi were engaged in a wild, wicked melee.
Then hands grabbed me.
Lothar tried to pull me out of the saddle and some men around him were following his example. ‘Marcomanni shit. Pretender Roman,’ he hissed as he heaved and managed to rip me from my seat. I twisted and fell with Lothar, trying to strangle him. He tried to put my eyes out, but my helmet stopped him, and we rolled on the floor. I groped for the seax, but he held an ax and struck me on the helmet with it. I reeled with the blow and the next swing glanced again off my helmet and drew sparks from the rock. I grasped his beard and butted his face with mine. He hollered, his nose flattened by the steel. He rolled aside as I rose up, Woden’s savage dance filling my mind. I laughed wildly and spitefully as I grabbed the Head Taker in two hands. Two men of Odo came forward to guard Lothar. ‘Come and then go eat at Lok’s tables if he will have you!’ They were young, very young and brave. They raised their clubs and charged. I impaled one so hard I felt his spine crack, and then I pushed him to his friend who fell on his back. I sawed the butcher’s blade off the corpse and stepped on the young man struggling to get up. I crushed his knee, and then kicked his mouth with my hobnailed caligae. Teeth scattered around the floor. Lothar was reeling up, and I gave him no time to grasp his ax. I charged, nearly slipping in blood and the Winter Sword came down in a huge overhead arch that would have cleaved a god in half.
It certainly did Lothar.
His corpse jerked as the blade buried itself on his side, and I laughed at the shocked look on his face as he nearly folded over the blade. I pulled the blade out, and it made a grating sound in his broken armor and spine. I poked him with the sword, enjoying the dimming horror in his eyes and missed a burly enemy coming for me. I saw him from the corner of my eye and whirled to block the spear thrust, but the man was quick and about to stab.
Then he shrieked and fell at my feet and fey, fierce Cassia with her bulging belly pulled a bloody spear from his back.
The man still tried to lift his arm, but the spear impaled him in the neck. Cassia stood over him, her hair half hiding her face, her chin up. She nodded at me in thanks and love, and I grinned at her, relief bursting out with a huge shuddering breath. ‘You, all right? The baby?’
‘I’m alive. The baby is as well. Fight them, love,’ she nodded at the fight.
Around us, spears danced, and the death ruled.
Men and horses were scattered on the floor, and in the light of some sputtering torches, I saw many were dead. A Batavi was slain under a horse, but the efficient auxilia killers were butchering many of Odo’s badly trained and armed men. The Batavi had formed a wall of shields in the middle of the room, and their spears flashed and dispatched many an enemy venturing too close. Agetan and Bohscyld were on the side, butchering some of Odo’s better-armed men in an orgy of torn limbs and broken bones. Tudrus was commanding the shield wall, his eyes meeting Cassia’s in relief, and Brimwulf was there as well. They pushed forward, Odo’s men dying in pairs and singles, but then in the far wall, a hole gorged confused enemies to the hall by a dozen. A horn blared down below mournfully, then with great intensity. More men charged up.
‘The wall! Towards the hole!’ I screamed, and Hund nodded, Tudrus pointed at the doorway, and the shield wall turned that way, the bearded Batavi stepping forward together, slamming shields together, thrusting spears overhead at the enemy. Men on the second rank made sure none who passed the spears lived to kill the first rankers, and gladius and ax grew red. I pulled Cassia after us, and Bohscyld and Agetan joined us, the wide men guarding her fiercely. ‘Take care of her,’ I told them, and they nodded with unholy glee.
‘Swarm them!’ I heard a man rumble and turned to see a man with a dark shield and a bear tunic by the tunnel’s entrance. He wore a leather helmet and apparently commanded the dozens of warlike men around him. ‘Break them! Don’t think!’ he screamed and pushed men forward. Round eyed, the men obeyed. The group of men rushed the middle of the advancing Batavi and a man of mine fell, screaming as his arm was broken. The animal-like enemy pushed hard at the line, and I joined the shield wall with the brothers, slashed open one of them in the chest, then another, but the whole Batavi line was stopped by the swarming enemy. We struck over our first line, pushing spear and sword at bearded, ugly faces and the smell of piss, shit and blood filled the air as men fell. More and more of the enemy charged, directed by the bear tunic. By me, Agetan and Bohscyld were grunting at men to hold firm, and Brimwulf was rushing to the flanks of the enemy, killing some men trying to flank us. Now even some scraggly women were lifting weapons against us. Brimwulf’s arrows killed a lanky man in the middle, and the enemy line buckled.
The bear tunic was staring at his dying troops and then lift
ed a horn.
He blew a high blast on it.
I heard slapping footsteps. From behind.
I turned to see a pair of large men emerge from a small tunnel and run towards a pillar in the middle of the room, holding hammers. They were grim, thick men, grimacing as they stepped on a wounded Batavi, killing him. They began to strike the fragile thing. ‘Hraban!’ Cassia yelled as dust fell to the floor.
I aimed my sword at the bear tunica man. ‘Push them! Push them! Quickly! Over that bastard and to the hole. If you can’t make it, run to the sides of the hall!’ I screamed, and men turned to me, not comprehending. More enemies poured from the hole, and Brimwulf shot one of the men holding the hammers on the back, and he fell on the pillar.
The floor shook.
‘Charge that man!’ Tudrus screamed, and the Batavi roused themselves, abandoning the shield wall, dropping spears in favor of axes and swords. As we went forward, pieces of roof began to fall. There were hunks of mud, fist sized pieces of rock, and rotten wood. Some five Batavi were still in the fringes of the battle, not heeding my calls. Horses ran around in panic as I slapped one away from me. I pulled at Cassia and hacked with the blade. I saw the Batavi swarmed over the enemy, losing some but killing many, and the bear tunic tried to push us from the doorway in vain as Brimwulf stabbed him with a gladius, his arrows useless in the press.
The roof fell, and I pushed and pulled Cassia away from under the cascade of rubble.
I saw shadows in the dust as we fell on our bellies.
Rocks came down to the middle of the room with ear shattering noise as if a god was screaming, rubble avalanching to the sides. Dust and piteous whinnies of the horses filled our ears as we all prayed. A man near us turned to red gristle as a jagged rock rolled on him and then, suddenly, it was silent.
Cassia was coughing under me, and I rubbed dust from my face. Men were picking themselves up, awestruck. A few torches were still burning fiercely in the hall. I saw a Batavi get up and stab a man of Odo’s in the face, and little by little, most of the turma gathered themselves. There were some twelve left. I saw Brimwulf get up on shaky feet and move to the open door leading downstairs. He cursed, took out an arrow, and began to shoot down where men were screaming.
The Winter Sword: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 3) Page 33