The Swabian Affair

by Ray Gleason

  I sensed a slight delay in Morcant’s response, but then he said, “I do, Lord!”

  “Very well,” Aderuhn nodded. “Proceed with your evidence against Arion mab Cadarn in the murder of Rhuhderc mab Touhim.”

  Holding the oaken wand, Morcant recounted the discovery of Rhuhderc’s body in the woods beyond the encampment of his band. He readily admitted that Rhuhderc had been seen alive after the moon rose the night before, but was discovered murdered at dawn. He then stated that near Rhuherc’s body was found a glev that was later identified as belonging to the accused, Arion mab Cadarn of the Soucanai.

  When Morcant’s testimony was complete, Aderuhn asked, “Is the glev allegedly belonging to Arion mab Cadarn here in the cuhmooliat?”

  That was my cue. “It is, Lord,” I stated, rising to my feet. “I have it here.” I raised the knife so everyone in the assembly could see it.

  Aderuhn nodded to his assistant, who approached me and took the glev. He then presented it to the barnuchel, who examined it for a few heartbeats.

  Aderuhn then demanded, “Identify yourself for the cuhmooliat, warrior!”

  After being handed the wand, I responded, “I am Arth mab Secundus, mab Cunorud, mab Cunomaro, known by the Rhufeiniaid as Gaius Marius Insubrecus. I serve in the fintai of the Caisar and am penevig of the Gah’ela bands.”

  The barnuchel nodded. “Did you witness Morcant or any of his band discover this knife near the body of Rhuhderc mab Touhim?”

  “No, Lord,” I answered. “It was handed to me by a member of Morcant’s band, at his instruction.”

  Aderuhn nodded again. “Do you have any knowledge of how this glev was identified as belonging to the accused, Arion mab Cadarn?”

  “Yes, Lord,” I stated. “On its handle are marks, which Athauhnu mab Hergest recognized as the marks of Arion mab Cadarn.”

  Aderuhn examined the knife in his hand, then gestured to his assistant, to whom he handed the glev.

  “Athauhnu mab Hergest! Rise before the cuhmooliat!” the barnuchel demanded.

  Athauhnu rose. The assistant handed him both the knife and the wand.

  “You have heard the testimony of Arth mab Secundus concerning the ownership of this weapon and how he came into possession of it,” Aderuhn stated. “Do you affirm this testimony before the cuhmooliat?”

  “I do, Lord,” Athauhnu stated.

  “Arion mab Cadarn! Rise before the cuhmooliat!” the barnuchel then demanded.

  Arion rose. The assistant handed him both knife and wand.

  “Arion mab Cadarn! Do you affirm before the cuhmooliat that this is your glev?” Aderuhn asked.

  Arion examined the knife, then stated, “‘Tis me knife, lor’, but I a lost—”

  “Silence!” the barnuchel demanded. “You will be given an opportunity to defend yourself after your accuser has fully stated his case.”

  Aderuhn then waved his assistant back toward Morcant, who was still standing. He was handed the knife and the wand.

  “Morcant mab Cuhnetha!” Aderuhn continued. “Do you affirm before this cuhmooliat that this is the glev that was found near the body of Rhuhderc mab Touhim?”

  Morcant examined the knife for a few heartbeats, then stated, “I do, Lord.”

  At a gesture from Aderuhn, the assistant took the glev from Morcant and placed it before Aderuhn’s chair. The barnuchel then asked, “Morcant mab Cuhnetha! Do you have any more evidence to place before this cuhmooliat concerning the guilt of Arion mab Cadarn for the murder of Rhuhderc mab Touhim?”

  “I do not, Lord,” Morcant bowed.

  The assistant collected the oaken wand from Morcant and took a position to Aderuhn’s left. At a gesture from the barnuchel, we all sat. The barnuchel then raised his face up toward the sun, asking the guidance of Chleu Chlaw Guhves in his first decision.

  Finally, Aderuhn rose, lifting his staff with the outstretched palm of its silver hand facing the assembly. “I declare that the evidence presented by Morcant mab Cuhnetha before this cuhmooliat accusing Arion mab Cadarn of the murder of Rhuhderc mab Touhim is adequate to proceed. I invite Arion mab Cadarn either to present his defense against these charges or to accept his guilt and satisfy both the body price and honor price of his victim.”

  As Aderuhn retook his seat, a slight moan was heard from the assembled Soucanai, which the barnuchel chose to ignore.

  I stole a glance over toward Publicola. I realized that he had been following the proceedings; Troucillus was translating for him. Publicola actually seemed interested, nodding his head at times and asking questions, which Troucillus seemed to answer.

  Cerialis, the engineer, on the other hand, had remained on seemingly to take advantage of Publicola’s supply of wine and tidbits. With a somewhat drunken, bemused smirk on his face, he was slouched in his seat, his winecup hanging to the side of his chair in his right hand. Upon noting the wine cup in his right hand, I crossed him off my suspect list.

  Aderuhn, the barnuchel, then stated, “Arion mab Cadarn! You may now present your defense against these charges.”

  Arion rose from among the Soucanai and walked forward to where Athauhnu was seated. The barnuchel’s assistant approached and handed him the oaken wand. Arion spoke, “I canna ha’ killed the Ainedua. I was na near the camp when it ‘appened. How me knife got there, I got no idea. It was stolen from me before the killin’.”

  Aderuhn digested the statement, then said, “Is this the total of your defense against these accusations?”

  “‘Tis, lor’!” Arion nodded.

  “Do you have witnesses to support these claims?” Aderuhn asked.

  “I do, lor’!” Arion affirmed.

  “Then proceed,” Aderuhn directed.

  Athauhnu rose, took the wand, and testified that, on the night of the murder, Arion was part of a three-man screening mission to the east of the encampment. The riders left the camp before sundown—and before the victim was last seen alive–and did not return until after the victim’s body had been discovered. Athauhnu had watched Arion depart on the mission.

  Arion’s two mates on that mission then confirmed that Arion had remained with them the entire night. Since at no time were fewer than two of them awake, Arion could not have left and returned to the encampment undetected by at least one of them.

  Although I felt that this evidence was adequate to acquit Arion of the accusation, testimony continued concerning the missing knife. Rhodri, the Soucani scout who had served with me in the campaign against the Helvetii and had fought in the battle against the Boii, stated that Arion had reported the missing glev to him an entire day before Rhuhderc’s murder. He and Guithiru had conducted a search and an inquiry, both of which failed to discover the lost knife among the Soucanai.

  After Guithiru rose and confirmed the testimony of both Arion and Rhodri concerning the glev, Aderuhn held the knife up toward them and asked a question. “This is an ordinary knife. There must be dozens of them within our camps. Why, then, were you all so conscientious about the recovery of this particular knife, which is now connected to the murder of a warrior of the Aineduai?”

  Arion spoke up, “It were me da’s glev! And, his da’s before ‘im! Look on th‘andle, lor’! That’s the old writin’! ‘Tis the sign for deroo, the oak. It gives its owner the strength and blessin’s of the gods, it does! It gives me the luck!”

  Aderuhn looked down at the handle of the knife and saw the characters of the old writing, = which the nations used before the coming of the Greeks and Romans. He understood the power possessed by these signs, if carved, according to the rituals, by a derouhd, one of the black-clad priests schooled in the ancient lore.

  He nodded and said, “I accept your explanation.”

  He then held the knife handle up toward the assembled Aineduai. I actually saw some of them nod in agreement.

  The barnuchel then asked Arion, “Does this conclude the presentation of your defense regarding the accusation against you in the murder of Rhuhderc mab Touhim?”

/>   “‘Tis, lor’!” Arion answered.

  Before Aderuhn could respond, I heard Troucillus’ voice speak in Gah’el, “May I have permission to enter the cuhmooliat, Lord?”

  “The pendefig of the Elvai is welcome to speak before the cuhmooliat,” Aderuhn agreed.

  As Troucillus approached the barnuchel’s chair, he gestured for me to accompany him. He bent forward to speak to Aderuhn. “Lord, the information I have is relevant to the matter at hand, but it is sensitive because it indicates the murderer of the unfortunate Rhuhderc mab Touhim, and the murderer may be present in the cuhmooliat. If you believe that this information is critical to determining the guilt or innocence of the accused, then I will proclaim it before the assembly. Otherwise, it should be heard by you alone in your role as a coulour, a searcher of the truth in this matter.”

  Aderuhn considered what Troucillus was asking, then said, “You must include the chiefs of the Aidenuai and the Soucanai in this. Otherwise, it could undermine the credibility of my judgment in this matter.”

  Troucillus immediately agreed to this condition and Aderuhn summoned Morcant and Athauhnu to his chair.

  When all were assembled, Troucillus explained what he had found at the crime scene . . . the footprints . . . the fibers . . . the position of the body. When Troucillus began to explain the nature of Rhuhderc’s wound—that it had been caused by a dagr, not a glev—Aderuhn asked him who had substantiated the information. When Troucillus identified Morcant’s medduhg, Aderuhn summoned the man forward to confirm Troucillus’ testimony.

  Finally, after the medic returned to his seated companions, Aderuhn summed up what Troucillus had offered. “So, based on what you saw, you believe that the murderer is a left-handed man, about five-four in the Roman measurement, who was wearing Roman boots and an undyed, woolen garment, and who had used a sica with a curved blade?”

  “I do, Lord,” Troucillus confirmed.

  “And you, decurio,” the barnuchel asked me, “you confirm that you were present when this evidence was identified?”

  “I do, Lord,” I stated.

  Aderuhn then asked Morcant and Athauhnu, “Do you have any questions for the pendefig of the Elvai?”

  Athauhnu just shrugged, but Morcant asked a series of questions to confirm Troucillus’ qualifications as a tracker and hunter. Finally, Morcant stated, “I am satisfied, Lord.”

  The barnuchel then asked them, “Do you have any in your fintai who would fit this description?”

  Morcant stated that none of his men were left-handed.

  Athauhnu admitted that many of his band wore Roman boots and at least four of his men were left-handed. “But none of them are that short,” he stated. “That’s a stature more common among the Rhufeinig . . . and I’ve seen none of my men wear undyed, woolen bracae . . . Our clan colors are blue and green.”

  Aderuhn thought about what he had just heard, then spoke, “I understand your concern about keeping this information secret, Troucillus . . . and it has no bearing on how I must decide this case . . . So, you will not be obliged to share this with the cuhmooliat . . . I ask the chiefs of the Aidenuai and the Soucanai to explain my decision to their men.”

  Both Morcant and Athauhnu nodded in agreement.

  Aderuhn continued, “Now, you all must step away from the chair of judgment, so I may deliver my decision alone in sight of the god.”

  When we retreated back to our places, Aderuhn again rose from his seat. The assembled Aidenuai and Soucanai rose with him. Aderuhn again lifted his staff, the outstretched palm of its silver hand facing the assembly. “I repeat that the claim of Morcant mab Cuhnetha that Rhuhderc mab Touhim was murdered, is valid.”

  There was a stirring among the Soucanai; Ci placed his hand on Arion’s shoulder to steady him.

  Aderuhn continued, “The accusation that Arion mab Cadarn killed Rhuhderc mab Touhim is not proven.” A grumbling moan was heard among the Aidenuai. This time it was Morcant who silenced them. Aderuhn went on, “So, I cannot impose the coscorv and the cosvanrhuhda for this crime on Arion mab Cadarn.”

  There was a stirring among the Soucanai. Ci actually slapped Arion on the shoulder. Athauhnu ordered his men to be still.

  The barnuchel concluded, “Since this was the purpose of this cuhmooliat, I will call it to an end, with the assembly’s concurrence.”

  Morcant spoke up, “Lord! May I speak?”

  “Proceed, Morcant mab Cuhnetha,” Aderuhn allowed.

  “Lord!” Morcant protested, “I and my men will return to our homeland tomorrow, after we have guided the Caisar’s embassy to the ford across the river of Soucanna. Although we do not protest the decision of the barnuchel in this matter, how are we to bring justice to the father and brothers of Rhuhderc mab Touhim for their loss?”

  Aderuhn briefly considered Morcant’s words, then spoke, “In our laws, when the actual murderer cannot be identified, there is the allowance for a chief to pay the coscorv and the cosvanrhuhda to the family of a murder victim who was pledged to the chief at the time of the crime.”

  The Aidenuai nodded in agreemment as Aderuhn continued, “Arth mab Secundus! Please stand before the cuhmooliat!”

  It took me a few heartbeats to realize that Aderuhn had called for me. I stepped forward, not liking at all where this seemed to be going.

  “Arth mab Secundus,” Aderuhn announced, “the Caisar has appointed you chief over the fintai of both the Soucanai and the Aidenuai. Is this not true?”

  “Mai’n wir, fuh arglwyd,” I heard myself say. “‘Tis, my Lord!”

  “Then, Arth mab Secundus, as chief of the sworn bands, are you prepared to settle the coscorv and the cosvanrhuhda of Rhuhderc mab Touhim with his chief, Morcant mab Cuhnetha, until the true killer is identified?”

  My head was spinning: fifteen dai! How many Roman denarii to satisfy a da—ten, fifteen? Then I heard Troucillus speak, “My Lord! May I speak?”

  “Your counsel is always welcome, Gaius Valerius Troucillus,” the barnuchel acceded.

  “Lord,” Troucillus began. “I speak for Tertius Gellius Publicola, who is a tribune of the Rhufeiniaid and the Caisar’s brenin a froouhdrau for this expedition. Publicola asks that as the brenin of both Gah’ela and Rhufeiniaid, he be allowed to settle the coscorv and the cosvanrhuhda of Rhuhderc mab Touhim. He offers one hundred fifteen silver denarii in compensation to the family of the milour, the soldier, who was murdered while serving under his command.”

  I was in shock. Initially, from being asked to pay the compensation for Rhuhderc’s murder, and then, from the unexpected offer of Publicola, whom I would never have suspected of having a bit of concern for anyone other than himself.

  When I finally came to my senses, Morcant was speaking: “I accept the offer of compensation from the brenin a froouhdrau, and on behalf of my tribe and the family of Rhuhderc mab Touhim, surrender all claim to his coscorv and the cosvanrhuhda once his murderer is identified.”

  The barnuchel nodded toward Morcant, then toward Publicola. “Now that the issue of coscorv and the cosvanrhuhda has been settled to the satisfaction of all parties, I declare this cuhmooliat ended.”

  We reached the ford across the Arar by the seventh hour of the next day.

  We had bypassed Ventum Cavillonum. Cerialis announced and Publicola concurred that it was a sad place—a collection of roundhuts, cattle pens, and a chief’s hall, hardly fortified, and on low ground—of no military value at all. Metius did enter the oppidum. He said he had some contacts there from whom he could collect intelligence.

  We halted on the west bank of the river. I sent Ci’s ala across, with orders to procede as far as a Soucanai settlement on a bluff at the mouth of the Dubis. I made sure that Arion was with Ci’s troop. I didn’t think any of the Aidenuai would try to take revenge on him, but why take an unnecessary risk? Guithiru’s ala crossed after Ci and deployed itself along the bluffs on the east bank of the Arar to screen our crossing.

  The decurio in command of the Roman cavalry had
just informed me that Publicola was ready to cross the river when Morcant approached where Athauhnu and I were positioned on the river bank.

  “A Pen!” I called to him. “I thought by now you would be on your journey home.”

  He smiled. “We are anxious to go, a Pen. But, it would be discourteous of me to depart without taking leave of you . . . and of you, Athauhnu mab Hergest.”

  An Ainedua avoiding rudeness to a Rhufeiniaid and a Soucana! This is new ground, I thought.

  “Bued i’r duwiau uhn eich amdivuhn huhd nes uh buhtoon uhn cifarfod eto,” I pronounced the ritual of departure, which was echoed by Athauhnu.

  “Huhd nes uh buhtoon uhn coort eto,” Morcant responded, raising the palm of his empty right hand toward us in a sign of his peaceful intent.

  Instead of leaving, Morcant then asked, “Arth mab Secundus, do you have any message for my cousin, Rhonwen merc Gwen?” By addressing me by name, we were now having a personal conversation—a personal conversation about Rhonwen!

  “Uhh . . . please tell her . . . uh . . . tell her I grieve with her for her loss,” I stammered, trying to sound proper, military, and “Roman.”

  Morcant looked blankly at me for a few heartbeats, then chuckled. I even heard Athauhnu snicker.

  An Aidenua and a Soucana joining together in a prank against a Rhufeiniaid. Will wonders never cease this day?

  “Rhonwen and Rhuhderc grew up together,” Morcant explained. “They were friends throughout their childhood, but they never had the kind of love for each other that must exist between husband and wife. She will mourn the death of a friend, and the manner of it, but she will not mourn the loss of one she desired as a husband.”

  I was not wondering why Morcant was explaining this to me–somehow he had discovered my secret—but I was struggling to maintain some vestige of seventeen-year-old, Roman-officer gravitas in this matter.

  “Why are you telling me this, Morcant?” I asked, trying to keep my face blank.

  Morcant laughed and shook his head. “Because of what is written on your face every time Rhonwen’s name is mentioned . . . Plain to see by all but you. Am I not right, Athauhnu?”