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

by Alaric Longward

  Something alarmed him, as he turned to look at me. His face fell for just a moment, as he regarded me, taking stock of my scar and my frown, and the blade on my belt. He made a lavish gesture, his stained toga giving away hints at the man's nature, for he was not afraid of physical toil and dirt in his lofty position. He was the mind and eyes of some far away menace, a game piece in the finer, deeper games of power. Fulcher was following me, observing the cluttered area cautiously, but Antius just pointed him to a space farther away. I raised my hand at my friend, who obeyed reluctantly, conversing with the Batavi guards.

  I stopped to scrutinize him, my fingers playing on the hilt of Nightbright.

  He looked like a fish left alive on a hot rock. He sweated, and fingered his toga, trying to straighten out some wrinkles.

  'Well, we meet again,' I told him bitterly. 'Despite Vago and your treachery. You filth.'

  He sighed. 'Hraban, Hraban. It is true I did not think to meet the wayward, insignificant boy of Maroboodus again. Now, you are here. Saturninus has questioned Cornix. He did it today, in fact, surprising us as we returned to Moganticum. Nothing came out of it, of course. And I had a chat with our friend Drusus. He has no proof.'

  'No proof at all,' I agreed. 'Only my word.'

  'And your father is not likely to speak.' He smiled. 'I suppose Felix is gone?'

  I nodded. 'Likely he would not believe Felix either. But, he suspects, does he not?'

  'He does,' Antius said softly. 'He knows he is in danger. And so, Hraban, he is looking for proof, something to justify his fear of Rome. Cornix, of course, won't speak, will he? He is as mad as a bat in sunlight, and scarred like an ant ravaged bough, much worse than your pretty face, but he has undoubting loyalty. He is still an optio in the XIX Legion, my servant, and you, Hraban, should run far, far away. This is my warning. Go away.'

  'Ah, that I cannot do,' I said with a cold smile. 'I have men to kill.' But, more so, Lif to save, I thought.

  'Yes, men to kill. People to find.' He smiled back.

  I stiffened. Could he know about Lif? Yet, I dared not say anything about her, in case the fat mound of perfumed lard was just fishing.

  His eyes flickered to Fulcher and searched him, and I hated him. Then he gazed at me and pointed a finger my way. 'That you escaped Vago was unexpected. Impossible, in fact. That you escaped and took Hunfrid prisoner? Incredible. You burnt your father's hall? You killed some of his most reliable men? Yes? Gods laugh! But, now, it is over.'

  'What happened to Hunfrid? I know you speak with my dear father, so I am just wondering,' I drawled to his annoyance.

  'Matters not, Hraban. All will be clear one day. You know what I am doing here, and I know you have warned our young urban praetor he is the target for Maroboodus. Unfortunately, for you, he is just one man. His fates are beyond you to change.'

  'This one man,' I told him, pushing him with my finger to his astonishment, 'is a man unlike any I have seen. I think that men like him, and others, these Romans your Augustus so fears and this employer of yours wishes dead, might be the man to cut a bloody swath through lard-filled shits like you. But, as for Drusus, I am not his savior. I have business elsewhere,' I said forcefully.

  His eyes went to slits. 'Where is that baby of yours? Cornix has not seen her. I know what the Wolf did to that one girl.' He stared at my eyes. 'And you were speaking to Armin?' I opened my mouth, knowing he was only trying to fish for information, and had, possibly, succeeded, for he grinned. I punched him in the face so hard he spun to the ground with a crash.

  Men turned to look at us, and I waved my hands, my breath strangled with fear. He knew I did not have her. 'He is drunk,' I told men coming closer cautiously, and they nodded, smiling impishly. I kneeled next to Antius. 'You are on my list, Antius, and just like these men do not care if you live or die, Drusus might not mind you falling. He might be of the old, honorable blood of Rome, but he is also a player in this game. If all things fail, I shall be his sword in the dark. And he cannot prove you an enemy, yet he knows it is so. I will be in your nightmares, Antius.'

  'You cannot prove anything,' he hissed. 'And you just made a mistake. Again.'

  I grabbed his face, and noticed the Batavi take a step forward from the corner of my eye, Fulcher pleading with them. 'You fear, fat dog. You fear for you know there is one player in this game who knows you. Drusus. He knows what you are. And when Maroboodus fails to kill him out there in the war, he shall have no need to prove anything to anyone anymore. He shall be so strong he will lead his army to Rome, and let the gods decide who is just, who is false, and no lack of proof will spare you then. Nor will I.'

  I got up, and his face glistened with sweat as he struggled to his feet. I walked away, and he spat after me, his spittle hitting my neck. 'You made a mistake, Hraban. A mistake.' I turned back, punched him so hard I heard a tooth crack, leaving him insensible in mud, where a dog stopped to piss on him. Gods, was the violence the mistake, or did he know I was desperate for Lif? I was a fool.

  Tuba woke up the camp with the brazen cacophony. I poked my head out of the barrack, shading my eyes as men were marching. The tough centurions were already at the praetorium with the noble tribunes, receiving orders for the day. Legionnaires were breakfasting on some vegetables, getting ready for a long day. Soon, the unlucky ones would march forty Roman miles, or jog some ten in full gear. Others would train battle skills and other equally important legionnaire duties, and raw recruits would do so both in the morning and the afternoon. Many immunes would work their sometimes nearly exclusive trades, especially the scribes and the clerks, and the carpenters. Naval soldiers would train the seamanship at the river. Day as usual.

  Except, that day, four cohorts would guard the meetings of Drusus.

  Fulcher came in from the outside, shaking his incredibly long hair enthusiastically. 'Chilly morning, my friend. The Batavi sent us some nice rations again. The legionnaires seem to munch on some fruits and vegetables and a piece of bread every morning. Wine with water, no ale, no mead. No wonder they are killers. They probably see a man trying to stop them from the first proper meal since forever when they face the spears. The Batavi eat well though. Beef, vegetables, ale. Porridge. Cannot complain. Ansbor is getting too fat,' he told me, as Cassia appeared wearing a white tunica and silver bracelets, and she giggled as she watched me, combing her hair.

  'You look like a mole that has woken up in the middle of the winter, Hraban. Your beard is in tangles, rings under your eyes. You been drinking again?' she inquired sweetly while nodding at Fulcher.

  'Rough night, Cassia. Much will be decided soon,' I told her. 'Be careful as you move around. In fact, please have a guard with you, never far.' Antius and Cornix. I felt Father's hand reaching for us from afar. Her eyes met mine, and she nodded bravely.

  So we ate well, dressed up, and waited. I thought of Armin, of Antius and Catualda, feeling fates tug at me. Soon, things would change for all of us, and I eyed my friends, Ansbor's sullen face as Cassia was chatting with Fulcher, who was embarrassed as she teased him for his inability to tie a knot at the hem of his armor. I felt wind blow through the room, and thought it was Woden's warning. Men would die. Wyrd, the three sisters spinning our future were hard at work, and some strings would be cut. I would fight so that none were ours.

  We were taken out in the late morning, and had to dodge a hundred recruits who were jogging in formation, full kit on. Wicker baskets, the bedrolls on the end of the long poles, the pilum and shields were clanking, dolobara digging tools clanking, and helmets bouncing in their heads, their mail dusty. The youngsters were huffing along with rounded eyes, wondering when the pain would end. A pair of ruthless centurions jogged next to them, wearing a tunic alone, and holding a well-used cane that danced on unwary shoulders every now and then. The bastards were laughing. We walked calmly with our Batavi guards, and came outside in the wake of the dust cloud from the hapless recruits.

  Outside the gate, a familiar sight greeted me.

 
The Quadi exiles had arrived.

  Bohscyld stepped towards us from the side, and grinned in a way a hideous monster from abyss might grin. Fulcher looked surprised, groping for a weapon, Cassia nearly screamed as she regarded the boulder-like Quadi, but I waved them down and walked to him. He had grown, not fatter but stronger, if possible. He was like a rock, as wide as a pony. I gave him my arm, and he took it, and he grinned at Ansbor, for we had fought each other through our childhood. Then he stared at Fulcher uncertainly. He also noticed Cassia, and went entirely red in the face, looking up and down.

  I laughed at his sudden timidity. 'He is with me. So is she.' I pointed at Cassia, and he mumbled something incoherent, distressed. 'Where are Agetan and Tudrus the younger? Where is your father, Tudrus the Elder?' I asked.

  He grunted and hissed while gazing at the Batavi, and I understood I should not name the men. They were with the Sigambri after all, and I followed. 'Hey!' yelled one of the Batavi guarding us and rushed to follow us, suddenly followed by some ten of them. Chariovalda was taking no chances since I met with Armin, and my meeting with Antius was common knowledge. My friends ran after me. 'Hey! We are ordered to attend the meeting.'

  'When does it start?' I asked a tall Batavi in leather armor.

  'In two hours! So—'

  'So, I will speak with my friends first,' I grimaced at him.

  'But—'

  'They are my friends, man, and I shall speak with them,' I told him tiredly and walked on.

  'You shall not punch any of them,' he told me prudently.

  'Only if they punch me first,' I snickered, for we had previously hurt each other countless of times.

  'Who are they?' he demanded.

  'They are Gauls, Mediomactri Gauls. I used to know them in Hard Hill.'

  'They don't look like Gauls,' he said uncertainly, but I did not answer him.

  We walked the length of wall of the castrum towards the village, and I followed Bohscyld to a busy house near the road, an inn by the looks of it, for food was being served from a stone table with steaming vats sunk on holes. I saw that Tudrus the Older was sitting at a table, eating a pig. A whole pig. His son, Agetan, was with him, near identical to Bohscyld, who stopped me with his arm, growled, and took us to the side. A man was talking with Tudrus, and Tudrus, seeing us, discreetly dismissed him on some errand. He motioned for me, his eyebrows shadowing his face as he regarded the Batavi guard clambering after me. His face was leaner than it had been, the old man's hair gray and in a ponytail. None wore the Suebi knot. We went to the table, and he looked up at me. 'Sit, Hraban.' Brusquely, to the point. I frowned at him. Had I not saved his wrinkled rear?

  Tudrus the Younger walked up from around the corner and grinned briefly, his long hair framing his face, the lithe and muscular youth, my former, terrible enemy, now happy to see me. He sat down like a cat, and gave my hand a painful shake, looking at my face and the scar, and Agetan was clapping my back, smiling stupidly, and I had to grab his arm before he broke a bone. I never heard Bohscyld or Agetan speak properly, but they had a way to make themselves understood. Tudrus the Younger gazed at his father, who was now sitting there on the table, with a half-eaten leg bone of a pig crunched in his ham-like fist, his eyebrows furrowed.

  'Father is being unhappy, Hraban. He is like that these days,' Tudrus the Younger said, glancing at the old man who grunted, and noticed the food in his hand and tore off a chunk with his teeth.

  The old chief spoke. 'You saved us. My boys and me, Hraban. I give you that. Despite this, we lost relatives. We lost our lands to the pup Vannius and traitor Sibratus. And you were working with your father then. Would you have stayed with him, had he not betrayed you?' he asked, while pointing to the table.

  'I … yes.' I gazed at him. 'He was very likable then. He was … is my father. But, I did send Ansbor to warn you, for you are my friend. I am sorry for your losses. How do you like the Sigambri?'

  He snorted as he gazed at Ansbor sitting with the Batavi, and gave him a near imperceptible nod in thanks. 'Like living with the pigs. They have a fertile valley or two, but they are at war as often as the warriors of Valholl. Unhappy land, and our few thousand people face losses every spring. We might have done better fleeing to Rome. Here. Like you did.' He slurped at a horn full of steaming ale. Then he inspected my face. 'Your warning was not entirely groundless. I believed you. I hate him. And now, your father and you seem to have an irreversible fall out.' He tapped my face with a pig bone. I slapped the bone so it flew and hit one of the Batavi, who only sat down as Fulcher begged him to.

  'Makes you prettier!' said the younger Tudrus, ignoring the guards arguing with my friend.

  'You should try it! Can I fix one for you?' I asked him. 'And I am not here for good. I fled here after I lost Burlein, and I lost other things as well. I need…'

  'Help,' Tudrus the Older said. 'This meeting here is moot. The Cherusci are here only to see what they are facing. The Chatti are still undecided, it is true, but nothing will come out of this.'

  'So, where is Wandal?' asked Tudrus the Younger eagerly. 'I have not trashed his ass for a while.'

  'He was lost in the battle of Castrum Luppia,' I said with sorrow. 'Something I have to deal with yet.'

  'Gods, you have a lot on your lap,' Tudrus the Older said.

  'And Ansigar?'

  I looked away. 'He is with Gernot and Odo.'

  'Odo? The bastard's still alive?' Tudrus the Younger asked. 'Father told us of this prophecy.'

  'Yes, they are still after me. It is a long story. I shall never have my own hall, and even if I miraculously manage to fix everything else, I shall drag my feet through the Roman world, trying to find Wandal. I lost his bride. I lost my tribe, and I lost—'

  'Your daughter,' Tudrus the Older said grimly.

  'How do you know that?' I said with a small voice.

  Tudrus was munching on his pig leg, and he took a swig from his horn, then a swig of mead from unsuspecting Agetan, but he did not seem drunk at all. He was searching for words. 'You made my helmet famous, boy. I am proud of you. I have been bragging shamelessly that it's my helmet,' he laughed, but his voice was nervous. 'Eat, and I do not care if it is your second breakfast,' he grunted.

  'My daughter,' I growled.

  'Eat,' he said tiredly, and I did, holding the turmoil inside me in check. Tudrus bought the Batavi a meal as well, and it was a noisy and loud group watching over me, full of mirth and happiness I did not feel.

  I played his game, and took a long breath. 'So, what have you been up to? I have not seen you since last year,' I asked, while eating the last bit of pork.

  He showed a basic gladius to me, and I admired it. 'We have been fighting alongside the Sigambri. When we moved there, last fall, we had nothing to offer but our spears and lives. Maelo took us in. Now, we serve him. I got this blade off an exploratore scouting our side of the Luppia River.' Tudrus the Older nodded many times and then licked his fingers. 'Your father changed the world for us all, Hraban. The Quadi will have to find a new place to live. Tallo, my relative, is still free of your father's schemes, but he is weaker than traitor Sibratus who follows your father. The bastards,' he slammed the table with his fist so hard the Batavi rose up as one man. I waved at them, and they sat back down, though they did not let go of their weapons. 'In the north, however, there is hope. The Cherusci. Armin especially, I think, even if he has no lands other than Sigimer's. He will fight Rome. He will fight Maroboodus. And so, we are thinking about joining him. As are you.'

  'He sent you here?' I asked breathlessly.

  'He did,' Tudrus the Younger said carefully.

  'What about Armin? What is he planning?' I asked him desperately.

  His eyes went into slits. 'He says yes. Will you serve him? He and his father are going to fight, if these dog-faced turds invade,' he stated. 'I like him. Ruthless bastard he is, but I do like him. Suffice it to say, with or without your father, the tribes in the north will stand. Even without the Chatti. You woul
d do well to serve the young man. He is a worthy warrior, and has an uncanny way to convince older, prouder chiefs to heed him. But, you know this already. He is here to see the Romans, and has done that. He is here to charm the Chatti into joining them. He is here… to hurt your father. Though I think your Drusus will do that as well. Neither wishes the Marcomanni anywhere near this war. And so, Armin has many uses for you. The ring, of course. Then he needs the Chatti, yes, so he hopes you would help him with that, and many other things,' Tudrus said. 'Your Gunda still thinks you are her future husband.'

  I groaned and cursed, for while I was pleased and my ego soothed by the thought of a Chatti princess thinking like that, I was not planning on marrying anyone, not for anyone. I had desperate feelings for Cassia, and she came far behind Lif. Another duty to hamper me, another thing in my way. I shook my head, making no comment.

  'Or,' he continued, sensing my reluctance, 'the ring will be enough. He is your sanctuary, like he will be ours. He forgives much. But, as I said, he is ruthless.' He looked down.

  'And what is needed?' I asked him, feeling doom pressing its heavy hand on my shoulder.

  'An ill deed for an ill deed,' he said softly, looking down, the honorable man suffering, and I felt my newly found honor was about to be irreversibly destroyed.

  'Armin will give you everything you need,' Tudrus the Younger said, scowling at me. 'He will give you Lif. He found the bounty hunter Hands, and Hands had a baby with him. He was thought a spy, captured, and he is with the Cherusci. She is a beautiful baby, Hraban. We saw her, when we prepared to travel here.'

  I got up, but Agetan grunted as he pulled me down. 'He has Lif?' I asked softly. 'He has Hands?'

  The old chief nodded. 'I do not like this. She is your child, Hands admitted it freely. He was taking her away to safety, he claimed, hunted by strange looking men, and took refuge with Armin's men to save her. He was lucky, Hands. He was running when he had to take refuge with the Cherusci army near the Luppia River. Armin was grateful.' Odo had gone after Hands, I thought, but failed. Thank gods.