Raven's Wyrd: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 2)

by Alaric Longward

  We listened to the song many times that night, and men wept shamelessly, thanked high Woden and terrible Donor, Tiw and Freyr, and made pledges and oaths, some making peace with men they hated or had a feud with, for such was the power of song.

  At last, the poet nodded at me, and sang one final song. His face betrayed emotion and his weak beard shook with the power of his song. It was a wonderful little song of high praise, honoring a man who braved all for his family. It spoke of the perilous Raven and the harsh choices of men, of my bravery, and the Woden's terrible rage I carry in battle. It named me Vago's Bane, and bravest of Aristovistus's blood. It named me many fine things and grudging mugs, and horns were finally raised, Burlein's being the first.

  'He did err, my friends. He erred, for he served his father, the liar,' Burlein said loudly. 'The manes, spirits of the hall, are watching us, no doubt, and I say we forgive him. Let any man mocking the Oath Breaker leave with a bleeding face!' They cheered him, and saluted me. Others just nodded, for I was a vitka slayer, and a man who had schemed against them. Delicate fame was like a small flower, lord; when stepped on, it was impossible to make it blossom, but I was set on the path of recover, and I threw the poet silver I had stolen from Cassia earlier.

  That evening, Gunhild wed Burlein, and Tear was the one to do it.

  Men had heard the rumor, and looked at Burlein strangely, but they struggled against the old, holy ways for Burlein's benefit, and overcame the fact she had already been married to Maroboodus and her husband was still alive. Burlein took a terrible risk. She would be doomed if Maroboodus got his hands on her. Burlein was wagering some of his honor as well by breaking holy ties, but he was also giving the Marcomanni a subtle message. Maroboodus was not her real husband, but a man who had forced her into an unholy matrimony, having captured her father, and buried them all in lies. Burlein loved her, and as she was Aristovistus's blood, this also elevated the blond man, who was much younger than fair Gunhild.

  I glanced at Ishild, who gave me a cold smile. Men were staring at us during the celebration, as most knew we were not married. Few things make a Germani feel nude like disapproval and suspicion, and I had a lingering suspicion the song I had heard that night was not to be a popular performance. Yet, Ishild had her secrets, and I endured the looks for her benefit.

  After Yule, we endured hunger, and waited for war.

  CHAPTER XIII

  Spring was coming, but it was agonizingly slow to do so. People suffered cold, severe sickness, and there were many corpses carried aside and hoisted up high to a shed set on a sturdy old tree to keep the wolves away. We would burn and rise a mound over them later, when the land thawed, and life returned to vibrant colors. Ishild's belly was still growing, and she was no longer happy at all, but increasingly sarcastic and terribly cranky. This sporadically evaporated in a sudden burst of loving and caring chatter, but only for a moment's time.

  The old, toothless woman taking care of her needs snickered at me, and told me this was normal, when I asked. I grew bored with hearing that, but no doubt, they all grew bored with me asking the question. Ansbor and Fulcher had gambled for a month, barely taking outside, with Cassia mocking them for their apparent uselessness, and all their nerves were wearing dangerously thin. Cassia was spending much time with Ermendrud, whispering with her, and I tried to ignore the lot, and find out what Burlein was planning. He had been secretive, and I did not like secrets. They often got me into trouble.

  It was late Martius as the Romans called it, or Lenzin-mánód as the elders knew it in our lands, the spring month. The stubborn snow seemed to disagree, and sweet spring felt like a faraway dream as the frozen ground and windswept tops of the trees swayed in the northerly wind that made all living things miserable to the bone. One day, I burrowed my way to Burlein's hall, cursing the bothersome snow, and wondering why the hell we lived in a land where the air was colder than an ice jotun's ass, when they said the warm winds blew in the south, and men laughed at the thought of a freezing, deathly cold white blanket covering the ground.

  I kicked open the door, and Burlein welcomed me, though he looked haggard and feverish. When he spoke to a servant, asking her to fetch mead, he sounded overly happy, though strangely agitated. None of the other chiefs were there. 'Shrug the snow off. My dogs hate the stuff.' He waved his hand at two large greyhounds he had bought from a greasy merchant from Illyria.

  They growled at me. Dogs did not like me, I thought, remembering my ugly foe from the time I ran from Burbetomagus. I glared at the two resentful mutts, and shook some of the snow off, though not all as I walked forward. The dogs still growled at me, and one got to its feet. I scowled at it, holding a hand on Nightbright. Burlein sighed, and grabbed them by their necks, dragged them cumbersomely to a small room near his seat, where we usually held food and drink, but not now, since it was all mostly gone. He latched the door, and the two unhappy animals growled unseen.

  'Thank you,' I told him, 'though they would likely make excellent dinner.'

  'If the snow does not melt by next week,' he muttered, 'I'll eat them myself in secrecy. How is Ishild?' he asked carefully, as he pointed at a bench.

  I sighed. 'She is sore, in various pains, and complaining pretty much all the time. And this is all normal, they claim. But, other than that, she is fine.' I lied to him, for I was concerned about her, and unhappy about her condition. 'Do you have any food that is not still walking about? Ansbor stole some of the gruel Cassia had left me this morning, though I cannot prove it.'

  He nodded carelessly. 'Some old bread, stale wine, surprisingly nice ale. A bit of mutton, too, though it's not very good anymore. It made a man sick yesterday. He has been taking a shit since, and complains his haunches are getting sore.'

  I nodded, sat down, and ate the bread while he stalked around me. I eyed him with trepidation, feeling something evil was afoot. I did not turn to look at him, as I munched on the dry wheat. 'Should I have brought my shield and spear? You look like you are about to have me sacrificed to Donor, or at least giving it some serious thought.' I asked him merrily, as I experimentally chewed on the mutton, which really was not very good, and I wondered how long ago it had been roasted. I would suffer for it, but I was hungry, and there it was.

  'Gunhild is the same,' he quipped.

  'What? The same? She wishes to sacrifice me?'

  He laughed and plopped down, his beard in tangles as he tore at it. 'No. Like Ishild.'

  'You mean … ' I asked, perplexed. 'But, she didn't have any children with her first husband! She thought herself barren!'

  He laughed raucously. 'Well, you remember we spoke about it. He was not a very good ploughman, a sloppy one. He rarely ploughed, in fact. And Maroboodus,' he said, clearly regretting bringing up my father's relationship with the woman he seemed to adore, 'apparently spent his juices on slaves. The bastard.' He visibly tried to calm himself, and barely managed it. 'But, there we have it, Hraban. My skills in this art are unsurpassed, and so you and Gernot will not be the only ones to carry Aristovistus's blood.'

  I nodded, carefully. Was this the reason he was so nervous? That I would feel slighted, or threatened, even? It was possible. I smiled at him, slapping his hand carelessly. 'Lord, I am happy to share the blood. I trust you with my daughter, you trust me with your … whatever comes out. I have no plans of ruling these lands, no. It is for you, and for the brats to decide, later. For Gernot, I make no promises. I just want my fame and home down the road.' I grimaced at the thought of my brother, fawning on Odo. 'So, she is terrible to you? Gunhild?'

  'Yes, she is,' he said with a shudder, and gave me some more ale and raised a horn. We drank to both the happiness and unhappiness of our lives.

  'Now.' He set down the horn, letting it spill on a table. 'The war. We have to keep them alive, our wives and children, to make them rulers.'

  I nodded gravely. 'The others? Your council?'

  He waved his hand towards the door. 'They were here already. I wanted to share this news wit
h you privately. About Gunhild. But … ' He looked around, as if a sly spy might pop out of the shadows. 'There is news. Come spring, the Hermanduri will attack the Quadi again, as is their way, Suebi or not. They have no love for their neighbors, and Tallo and Sibratus will go at it, leaving a huge opportunity for these bastards. Yet, for what your father did to the Hermanduri last spring, they have a gigantic grudge. So, they will go easy on the Quadi, and send a sizable army here. They will send us men. I am to command them.' He grinned happily. 'So, I did find us some outside allies.'

  I opened my mouth, but shut it. He noticed my uneasiness and brooded. There was ever some uncertainty in Burlein, lingering doubt over his greatness and Tear's words came to my mind. I grunted noncommittally. The Hermanduri were numerous and savage. They had more than fifty thousand men spread out from the mountains to the east of us to the great rivers of the north, and though they were not a united people, a relatively small tribe like a Marcomanni would need to tread carefully, if they were to survive. That was why we had defended the Quadi against them since time immemorial. Hermanduri were known to war with the mighty Cherusci, the dreaded Chatti, and the Quadi at the same time, in addition to whatever they did in the east, the lands we rarely heard of. I briefly thought of Marcus Romanus, the Roman who had taught me Latin, the man serving Maroboodus and travelling those lands for Maroboodus, serving his dark plans, and wondered what part he had played in the deaths of my family.

  I sighed and rubbed my face. 'Lord—'

  He looked perplexed. 'This is a solid plan, Hraban. I know you would wish to use Hunfrid to lure Vannius and some Quadi to our side, making the bastard a veritable king of the mongrels, but would it not be possible he would war on us next? It is good, I think, to hold Hunfrid a prisoner here, giving us peace from both Vannius and the Vangiones. We need another ally, and I have been promised it,' he said with a clipped tone.

  'You didn't tell me this during winter,' I told him unhappily.

  He nodded, fury playing on his face for a moment. 'No, Hraban. I did not. I have to rule on my own. You planned what happened in Hard Hill. Men know it. This has to be my war.'

  'I messed up in Hard Hill. There is no cup in my hand, one made of Maroboodus's head bone,' I told him back. 'Hermanduri are treacherous. We don't even know who rules them.'

  'This lord told me he will bring three thousand men here. Men Maroboodus will not expect,' he grinned. 'It will be dreadful for your father.'

  'Was it costly?' I asked scathingly.

  'Yes, well … ' he stammered.

  'Well?' I asked, dreading his answer.

  'It cost us the Quadi.' He laughed uneasily, and I stared at him. 'We will not aid them in the future, what is left of them.'

  'And you think they will let us be after the Quadi are evicted from the rivers?' I asked him incredulously. 'They will—'

  'We will work with the Chatti to contain them,' he mumbled, but he knew it would be nearly impossible to have the Chatti help us against the Hermanduri. Then, I stared at him. He blushed.

  'What?' I asked.

  'You are not married to Ishild, not really. And you have complained she is capricious, fierce, and strange. The Chatti and your father wanted to marry you to Gunda, the Chatti princess. So, why not now? It would bind them to us.'

  'You presume too much!' I told him. 'I might as well try to make love to a goddess than tell Oldaric and Ebbe I would like to marry her now! After all the trouble, they don't trust me. Yes, adeling Adgandestrius is my friend, my fine friend, but their fathers think he is a fool, and—'

  'This is something we should do, nonetheless,' he yelled, and slammed the table with his heavy hand. 'We need you.'

  'Gods,' I told him, eyeing the blackened rafters in desperation.

  'You would move there, of course,' he said, looking down.

  I nodded, as I tore some meat off the bone in my hands. 'So, you wish to be rid of me as well?'

  He sighed. 'You remember Yule. The poet praised you in two songs and the men? They do not trust you. They think you bring them bad luck.'

  'It is my tribe as well,' I told him frankly. 'I feel no inclination of leaving it.'

  He opened his mouth and closed it heavily, rubbing his face. 'People do not trust you. That is important. And, as I wanted Balderich gone, perhaps it would be best if you were gone eventually. To a happier place. I do think it might be for the best. After the war.'

  'Do you?' I asked softly and dangerously.

  'I do not know,' he said frankly. 'There. You have it. I think of you as a friend, but there is a bloody history with you and Grinrock, and also, you are Balderich's grandson. And I will have a child I have to protect.'

  'I said I do not wish to rule,' I said, incredulous. 'I said it, and I mean it. I am no threat to your child.'

  His eyes glinted. 'Very well. But, perhaps, even if you are not, the people who are after you are? There is the prophecy, and I believe in it. Tear? Perilous. Ishild? As perilous. They could go with you to Gunda after your father is dealt with,' he told me prudently. 'There is the mad god to consider, and the servants to the creature are a danger and are in danger here. Her mother especially … there are solutions, that … are permanent,' he suggested. 'They did work against us, did terrible things, and men hate them.'

  I growled, and put a hand on my sword. 'No.'

  He shook his head tiredly. 'Fine. Think about it. We have little we can do right now. But, the deal with the Hermanduri has been sealed. I will keep Hunfrid, and let the Quadi die to the Hermanduri, this coming summer. It will be a terrible summer, Hraban, but this is my decision. And then, we will discuss your future.'

  'Very well, lord,' I told him, still angry, and he looked ashamed. He was growing into a ruthless man, quickly, and I worried about him. I had not expected him to entertain such thoughts about Ishild and me, and as it was with many insecure men, he took rash actions to cover up his inexperience and uncertainty. I wondered if my daughter would be safe, and thought about smuggling Ishild and Tear to Euric.

  He got up and stretched. 'Times change, Hraban. I will manage the Marcomanni and mold them into a stronger nation. The Quadi do sadden me, they do. Sibratus and Vannius have split them up like a ripe turnip. A dying people they are, and we must think of ourselves now,' he said languidly as a pretty slave walked past. I heard Gunhild throw up in the far rooms, and Burlein stammered and smiled wistfully. 'You did not warn me of that,' he said, as he listened to her terrible moans and bitter curses. 'I thought pregnancy was a pretty, serene thing, not something resembling what I pushed out of my ass this morning. Horrible.'

  'Ishild was not with me in the beginning of the blessing, so I could hardly warn you,' I shrugged. 'But, I tell you it is possible that it gets much worse!'

  He mumbled something as he sat down. 'A blessing for us it will be, but not yet, it seems,' he said softly and then cringed as Gunhild cursed all the men in the earth to Hel for the suffering she was going through. I poured some ale for Burlein, sympathetically clapping his hand, despite my worry for his plans. He drank it down, gray of face. 'Gods, let the snows melt, and give me an escape!' We laughed softly and moved to a room that served as a guest quarter, and he waved his hand towards her quarters. 'Gunhild has swayed some more of the old Marcomanni families and even stray men on our side as well, men who remember Balderich. She is powerful, especially now when she is pregnant. Men see it as a sign of godly favor I managed to make her vomit so. I should be able to field some four thousand fine men, if we summon all from the forests and further valleys. Your father might have some five thousand, if he gathers some from the Quadi as well, but many are unwilling to serve either. Some thousands are neutral. Thus, we need some three thousand Hermanduri. Simple. It will be about numbers.'

  I nodded, and took a deep breath, giving up. 'And me?’

  He roared happily. 'I need you on my side this spring. You are his true heir; his men see a heroic son against a false father. His former wife in my hands, his son in my ranks? It might cos
t him hundreds of men.'

  'She is still his wife—' I reminded him, and he growled.

  His happiness was gone in an instant. 'No, the marriage was not legitimate. Balderich was imprisoned, and would not have accepted it, it was not … ' He stopped speaking and sat down. 'I will fight, and I will win, and men will come to me, and your rewards are going to be great.' He went on, looking around. 'We will march during Drimilchi,' he said nervously, and I felt gloomy foreboding.

  I stretched. 'They are making plans as well. He is a crafty one, has good warriors, despite the ones we managed to kill. Perhaps he has some five to six of his riders left? Nihta will be a terrible man in the field of battle. Are you comfortable with leading the men in a shield wall?' I asked, and he looked down. 'You are?' I asked again, and he shrugged, his face flushed with shame and anger.

  'I am a lord, Hraban, but you know me. I know you have doubts—'

  I shook my head. 'I have doubts as well. It is normal, I think, and I am sure we will all know what to do when the time comes. If you are bent on using the Hermanduri, you have to be able to control the bastards. Can you?'

  He shuddered as he collected himself. 'I am not a grand strategist. Isfried was a fair one. Hermanduri are sending chiefs, and you are right. They will need decisive leadership, and I can give them that, should you help. As for the battle plans? Perhaps you would come up with one?' He looked red-faced and deeply ashamed, and I nodded at him, horrified he had none.

  'You have kept the spies in Hard Hill, yes? Father has men here, I am sure,' I said carefully.

  'We have men there, yes,' he nodded. 'We lost some in the winter, but we have many reliable men there. One especially is very good.' I shook at the responsibility and leaned back, unhappy. He gestured with his hand towards the north. 'We will draft a plan on the assumption we shall march on Hard Hill. We will need supplies and stockpiles, like the Chatti do when they go to war. We will need cavalry and scouts all around the troops when we march, and we will need to know exactly where the enemy is from the moment we march. Nay, from this moment onwards. This will take a lot of men. And, despite that, the battle we will eventually fight, no matter our well-laid plans, will be a surprise on both sides. I hear they always go wrong. I need you to help me with this, and most of all, I need you to lead men in the battle itself. He will have Roman training. We need surprises.'