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

by Alaric Longward

  'I am not willing to discuss Burlein, thank you,' I finalized. 'Your visit had some meaning, my unwanted friend?'

  He pointed a stubby finger my way. 'I still work for those who pay most, occasionally, but for her, I work for something else. I work for her survival; Veleda’s. And she has a message for you.'

  I shook my head. 'No, I have a message for her. Tell her I do not wish to find her. I know about the prophecy, the full verses, and she will die, if I should, one day. Tell her she should hide, far away, and also tell her,' I growled as I leaned forward, 'that I think she should ask your former dog to bite your nuts off and leave you dead. I do not trust you. No matter if you have had a temporary change of heart. Or just found a heart, anyway.'

  'She does not think it can be avoided,' he told me tiredly. 'The part of you finding her, not the part about my lovely dog. It is wyrd. You have to decide what you do when that day comes. She says it might be avoided, if you did a deed. A hard, harsh deed. She says you owe her. You owe her a life. A life that is a relative of hers.' He looked hard at me. 'You have to find compassion in your heart for others than yourself. You have to think hard on what is best for your child. Your baby might need a father who knows how to give her up.'

  'You teach me compassion, bounty hunter?' I said, troubled at the subject. Surely, he did not think I would give my child to her. I kept a grip on my sword. 'I thought you were here for Ishild.'

  He waved his hand. 'Veleda says she has her part to play. But, she has obligations elsewhere, and we cannot help her.'

  'Really? What obligations?'

  'I say no more of that,' he told me as he tore into an old bit of meat, something I had hoped to consume for my mid-day meal. 'Odo is making plans for Ishild and your unborn daughter, but Veleda says she can protect your daughter from Odo while the game plays to the end. Nevertheless, you need to trust her. This is what she said. You need to believe her when she says this is the only way Lif will be free of Odo, until the end at least, when this business is decided. If you do this, then it is possible Odo will never find them. For this is a selfless act, Hraban. Utterly so. If the baby stays with you, she may suffer. If Odo gets her? She will not die, but I doubt he is a fatherly type. It might be the prophecy will come to pass no matter what you do here, but your child can be happy until it does. With Veleda. Give her up as soon as she is born.' Hands looked hard at my eyes. 'Lif will thrive with her, even if things get hard. If you do this willingly, she said, you would avert much evil. Fewer people you know will die. You'll be less hurt. The prophecy is untouched by this act, but it will be a kinder road for her. Give her up, and leave here. Veleda told me to tell you this. Travel north, soon, very soon, flee the Marcomanni, and you can find yourself with your own people, the Gothoni, or with the Cherusci, perhaps. Forget the Marcomanni, and your father. Stay, keep a hold on to her, and you will ride a perilous, strange path that will claim lives for decades.'

  'That I would give away Lif … my child? How could Veleda know something like this?' I was kneading my forehead with a fist.

  'This is a compassionate, selfless act, my lord Bago's Bane,' he confirmed. 'Veleda is a powerful völva; she speaks with gods and spirits.'

  'Vago!' I told him, and realized he had mocked me. There was a small, slimy smile on his face. 'And I have business here, with the Marcomanni.'

  'Yes, Vago. This is the road, Hraban. Fine. Wage your little wars over Ishild and the damned Marcomanni, avenge the rotten corpses of all the men and women you loved, maybe become a great man, but spare Lif much trouble, and let go of her. If she is taken away when she is born, and you let this take place, it will all be much less painful.'

  'Except for me,' I said skeptically. 'I will be a father.'

  'You have not tried to raise a child yet,' he mumbled. 'They are fine when they are all grown up. I am sparing you much suffering.'

  'You? I am to give her to you? A bounty hunter with a fancy tale to tell, and then, one day, I have to go to either Odo or gloating Maroboodus on my knees, to spare her?'

  'I am no liar, Hraban,' he told me, with a large, rumbling voice.

  I spat. 'I doubt Veleda is a safe guardian for my daughter. She is what, ten, no matter her fine skills with dogs and vermin.'

  Ishild entered. She did not look at me, but walked to Hands, who hesitated, watching her empty hands and her rounded belly. She sighed, her beauty striking, and leaned over the fat man, whispering something to him at length.

  'I will not let her go anywhere near Veleda! Never out of my sight,' I told them both, but Hands ignored me with disdain, and I rapped my sword on the table. Hands got up, as surprised Ansbor and Fulcher entered, with their weapons out.

  He looked imperious as he walked towards them, pushing through with little care, but he turned at the door. 'When the time is nigh, trust, Hraban. It will be bitter, dangerous, but trust. I am sorry for your coming losses.'

  Ishild nodded, and came to me, squeezing my hand. 'Wyrd, Hraban. Time will show what happens,' she said sadly and left. Ermendrud, unseen by us, harangued her about what Ishild had told Hands, to no avail.

  The fat man mounted his horse, and rode east as I went to the door. 'Happy day of your birth, young raven! In a bit over a week's time! She told me, Veleda!'

  I thought about the words and stood there for a long time and a terrible foreboding grabbed me with its choking tendrils. Shayla's last words reached for me. She had warned me. Beware my birthday.

  CHAPTER XV

  Next day, some weary Hermanduri envoys rode to Grinrock. They were a savage-looking lot, having travelled in the Black Forest for a week through banks of muddy streams and snowy hills, but they brought Burlein what he needed: confirmation of an alliance. An army of Hermanduri was riding our way. Burlein sent words of explanation to the Marcomanni villages that would be on the Hermanduri trail, and the news was taken in with nervousness and hope. They were to gather all their men in Grinrock in a bit over a week. Men began to hunt, traders were sent to buy what food could be found, no matter what side of the river. The war to settle all things between the ancient Marcomanni families was coming, and many would die. The worried women prayed, and even the children were restless and joyless.

  That evening, I was shining Nightbright with a rag and some grease, and Ishild was asleep with her head on my lap. I was careful not to wake her up or cut her when she suddenly did sit up, her eyes wide with surprise. I nearly cursed her for I had a sword in my hand.

  She looked over at me. 'It's time,' she whispered with a small grimace, and I found the floor was wet. 'Go and get Gunhild. Get the old woman Cassia hired. Get Cassia! Ermendrud, perhaps. She promised to help,' she was gasping now at me as I tried to help her up. 'Go already, fool!' That was uncannily like the less fateful Ishild I had known as a child, and I grinned at her as I sprinted for the next room, where the women slept.

  'Up! Help her, dammit!' I yelled like a man possessed and ran for the door. I would be a father; no matter what dangers came our way. The muddy track was slippery, as I ran like a maniac for the hall of Burlein. I kicked the door open and fell on my back with a curse. Gunhild was there, sitting on a stool, being massaged by Burlein, who looked down at me in stupefied surprise, but Gunhild put a hand on his chest and nodded at me. Some slaves were summoned and so we went, her belly rounding with a baby as well, slowing her down.

  I tailed her; my eyes round, pestering her with questions she refused to answer. 'You should not come inside,' she said sternly as I babbled, I cannot remember what, but I ignored her. I was there for a few moments, looking at the miracles of birth, and then Cassia threw me out bodily after I begged them to help Ishild, with tears in my eyes.

  'Stay away, cur, and come back when it is done, and try not to get too drunk,' she said with disdainful anger for my weakness, and slammed the door closed on my toes, which hurt, but I was happy as the thick door muffled the suffering voice of Ishild. I slunk back to Burlein's hall and walked inside, weakly cursing the whole of Midgard for the misery
such a simple thing as birth forced on a man.

  'It was like battle,' I told Burlein, who had procured a jug of mead from somewhere. Fulcher and Ansbor ran in, their faces white, expecting bad news, but I waved them down, tortured in my mind with the images of Ishild's suffering, her breathless pain.

  'We went to the house, and there was something horrid happening; it's your … ' Ansbor stammered.

  Fulcher sat down. He put his head to his hands. 'I never saw that before, even though I am a father. I was wise enough to find an excuse to work in Grinrock when this happened. It is a woman's world, and thousand times more terrible than a shield wall. But, you will be a father.' He cried for his lost son, we sat there, all grieving, yet strangely hopeful, and soon, all very drunk for the jug was a large one, and the mead very powerful. It was not alone, the jug and Burlein was generous enough to sacrifice everything he had to ease the evening’s slow passing.

  I am not sure what happened that evening, but I remember holding Burlein by his shoulders, shaking him gently. 'She screams, and twists and sweats terribly, and curses horribly. She hit me with a log while calling me a god abandoned mule,' I said with a slur, shaking him some more.

  'My mother threw a knife at my father from my birth bed, and they said my grandmother fetched the knife, and tried to improve her aim,' Burlein said drunkenly, smiling at the memory he did not have.

  I nodded sagely. 'Ishild did not have one. Only the log. No weapons for Ishild, thank Woden,' I mourned as I reached for more drink, and an old slave woman snorted in disgust as she listened to us. 'It was horrible,' I repeated several times in various tones and voices, and Burlein looked uncomfortable, knowing his turn would come.

  After ten hours of this, we were reduced to throbbing hangovers, red-eyed as drowsy foxes, and ultimately a silent band of sorry fools. Suddenly, I was shaken by the exhausted Cassia, her eyes red-rimmed like ours, though not from worry and drink. When I saw her, I paled in fear. She smiled, exhausted, and shook her head. 'Lif is well. Ishild is weak, but should live.'

  I stormed out. 'I thank…I do thank you, Cassia!'

  Cassia ran after me. 'It was hard for Ishild, though. Wait, you.'

  I stopped and took some deep breaths. She stopped in front of me, and wiped a strand of errant, sweaty hair from her eyes, looking at me wisely. She took my hand. 'The old woman says she cannot have more children. She has seen this before. She was hurt in the birth. She will be weak for some time. But, she should survive.'

  I absorbed the news, and while this was sad for her, I was relieved. That meant Odo would not whelp his brood on her; the boy meant to populate Lok's world. The prophecy was dead, I thought, it was gone. However, I would never have a son, unless I married some other woman, and thoughts of Gunda returned to haunt me. I was a true bastard, but tired to the bone, exhilarated and afraid at the same time, and I forgave myself quickly. I shook my head with a small smile, embraced Cassia and gave her a kiss on the cheek. I went home, leaving her sputtering after me. I entered the hall, went to the room that was Ishild's, and quietly sneaked in.

  There she was.

  The tiny fingers, the small, strangely happy sounds, and the pinched face that was both ruddy and pink made me stop in my tracks. Ermendrud, after a suspicious glance at my generally disheveled condition, was forced to hand the baby over by muttering Gunhild, who stalwartly took my side. So I held her for the first time, drunk on her little hands, her pouty lips, which I swore she curled in an exclusive smile at me. I would not easily let go, until Gunhild swatted at me painfully and explained that she needed to eat. I reluctantly parted with her, and Ishild took her, guiding the sweet lips to her nipple. She was utterly exhausted, hurt, having lost a lot of blood but happy in ways one can never be unless they experience the same thing. She had a faraway look on her face, one of sorrow, but we were all a bit strange that evening, and so I did not give it much more thought. I hugged Ermendrud as she wept, and we both knew why. I wept as well.

  I sat next to Ishild and rested, observing the baby, my head finally ending on her lap. I fell asleep as she caressed my hair in her thoughtful mood. There was love in her touch, despite the many dangers we were facing, and I was happy that early morning.

  The next day, around midday, to be exact, I woke up and spent the entire day staring at the girl, not even noticing my ravenous hunger. Germani wish for boys; in fact, most men of any nation do, for boys make your line immortal, keep the family strong, and give you pleasure in ways a simple girl could not. Yet, that day, I disagreed.

  I thought she was magical.

  I snorted, for being Ishild's child, and mine, a combination of the old blood, she certainly was. The prophecy was doomed, I thought as I gazed upon sleeping Ishild. She would bear Odo no children.

  However, that did not mean the bastard would not try. Odo would not give up.

  I smiled, despite Odo, for I was truly happy. She was a breathtakingly beautiful baby, rubbing her face on the coarse linen she was wrapped in, her hands moving around, as if groping for her parents, and her toes were lovely and small, and I got endless enjoyment from holding them, warming her. Her eyes were piercing blue, though the old slave woman grunted that it might change, but I did not believe her. She cried softly and sucked constantly on half sleeping Ishild's breasts, one after another, slept soundly, and finally pissed and pooped all over me. This made Gunhild very happy, though not for my discomfort. She claimed she was a very healthy baby.

  Ansbor laughed at me hugely. 'Finally, a woman managed to shit on him, not the other way around!' Fulcher clapped my back all that day, smiling like a fool, and they looked sheepish as they observed my happiness.

  Tear came in through the door. She saw the baby and held out her hands. I felt my throat tighten, but Ishild handed her over, and the old woman walked back and forth in the hall. She thanked the gods, and she blessed the baby, and while I watched her warily, she seemed satisfied by her.

  'What is her name, Hraban?' she asked, as she gave her to me.

  'I … ' I began to deny her, but could not. 'Lif.'

  'Lif,' she said unhappily. 'I wish it was not so. And she is one of those that might populate Lok's world.'

  'Ishild cannot have more children, unless the gods heal her,' I spat angrily.

  She gazed at me with sadness. ‘Beware of Lok. There are more creatures of his out there than Odo. Give her away. Today. Forget Ishild. Go out with her to the edge of the woods and wait. Hands will come. Do not, and it will be terrible,' she said as she gave me a cold smile, and left, heavy-hearted. I shifted my eyes between Ishild and Lif, and lifted her. I walked around the hall, gazing at her eyes, her beautiful face.

  I could not go out. I could not.

  She would stay with me. I was anxious, afraid, but I would be her future, not Veleda. Certainly not Hands. She would be lady of the Marcomanni, not a homeless wonderer, at the mercy of the woods and hostile tribes.

  Tear left that evening. Hiking to the forest, Fulcher told us. She did not say goodbyes to anyone but Cassia, who escorted her a way, and I found it strange that I missed her. When I asked Cassia about her, she smiled. 'She was not alone, Hraban. An old man was waiting for her by the trees. Gnarled as an oak, the same color nearly. Strangely keen eyes, white and gray hair. I walked to him to welcome him in, but he was wise, and told me he wished no words with you. Called you a tedious young bastard. He took her away.'

  'Was his name Adalfuns? Adalfuns the Crafter?' I asked her, in awe. He had been her husband, the famous crafter, who had promised to help me three times for letting Veleda go the year past.

  'He did not say his name,' she told me, 'but he did tell me to disagree with you, and to foil your plans, if you were a total idiot in my opinion. I shall try. Hraban?'

  'Yes?'

  She shrugged and blushed. 'For many months, I have wondered about you. There are so many sides to you. Stubborn as an old pig, noble and brave, like a famous king. Crude and handsome at the same time. But the way your eyes shone when you s
aw her? I liked that. I like that man.'

  'I … '

  She laughed and went, and I shook my head in doubt. Women were impossible to understand, yet we tried to.

  Later, even years after, people claimed they saw the famed Adalfuns the Crafter with Tear, guiding her to the east, and in some strange way, I was happy for her, though I greatly desired to see Adalfuns. I felt I would need his help very soon, again, and cursed him for not providing it, as he had promised. He had once, but gods knew I needed it then. That day.

  For I was weak.

  I stared in awe at my daughter and feared for her, and so I asked Fulcher to find guards and guides to take her, Ishild, and Ermendrud away from me, to Euric, and likely safety. I would not give her to Hands, ever. But, I would trust Euric.

  It was the beginning of Aprilis; the last vestiges of the snows were melting fast, the water was running in rivulets for the river, past year’s dry leaves spinning along for the river, and none knew where they would end up. That was how it was with our lives as well.

  While the village celebrated the beginning of the month of Eostere the goddess, Ishild fell sick, and could not travel.

  CHAPTER XVI

  Days went past, and she writhed in pain. It was a week after our child was born, and our entire household was packed and ready to go, but she was still sick. I fumed, worried, and forgot about the war and Father. While Fulcher, who was forever worried about my morals, must have thought this a great sign, I was doing nobody any favors by letting Burlein work on our plans alone.

  However, I was a father, and felt a changed man.

  The truth was, I was not thinking about the songs echoing in the halls, praising me. I was not thinking about Hulderic's or Mother's pyre, or even Wandal's plight. I was an Oath Breaker, and I was breaking my oaths of vengeance. I felt worry and love for the little, exposed girl, and I think I was finally an honorable man, for the first time in my life. None saw it, none knew about Hraban's changed soul, except for the people around me, and I was happy with myself. Even if deadly worried.