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

by Alaric Longward

  'Lord,' I whispered at him, as he was silent for a moment, listening and looking keenly, making plans.

  Drusus leaned on me, and whispered. 'They admire you, Hraban, a bit at least, though if they would forgive you for the womanizing and lies, we shall not know. For you are mine. I am sorry for what I have to do now.'

  'What—'

  'What he did, my friends,’ he raised his voice and the men went silent, 'was to obey his father. And his father, a cur if there ever was one walking around on two legs, told him to murder your holy vitka. He told him to murder the völva. He told him to give false oaths. He made Hraban an accomplice to his crimes. And soon, he will do the same to you. He has done worse to Rome, betraying his oaths to our lords.'

  Drusus pushed me to stand there before my kin, confirming the terrible crimes I was guilty of, and there was both hate for my father, and disgust for me, in the bearded faces. I stood as tall as I could, and gazed at Armin's face. He gave me a brief smile, for I was close to Drusus now, even if his father was looking away from me spitefully. They were discussing, divided, arguing like children, the loudest and rudest bullies, as they both cursed and praised Maroboodus, and I spied a small smile on the face of Drusus. What Father had accomplished last year with the might of his arms and wisdom of his words, what he had finished this year, final cementation of the Marcomanni, was for naught. Drusus had sown seeds of discontent to the hearts of the tribes. The Marcomanni might not ride with his enemies.

  Drusus glanced at me apologetically, and put his hand on my shoulder, flinching as I flinched, feeling betrayed. 'You have a new home now, Hraban. Embrace it, and it will embrace you. I give you my word Rome will not abandon you. And do not hate your woman. She helped you. She wanted a new home for you. She is thinking about your best interests. Keep her close. We shall speak more.'

  'She is not my woman,' I told him woodenly, feeling naked and alone as I turned and walked to my seat, my feet dragging. The eyes of the many of the arguing Germani followed me. I felt like a fool and a tool, and I slumped on the seat, pouring myself a goblet of wine.

  Fulcher leaned over my shoulder. 'You have to change your name and face, if you wish to live on the other side of the river now. Keep the honor, lord. We know it is there.'

  'Shut up,' I told him, and he went away. I felt like I needed another bath. I gazed at Ansbor, who was whispering something with Cassia, leaning over her, and she finally pushed him back. I shook my head and looked ahead sullenly.

  Drusus walked to peer at the Germani nobles, who went silent, brooding, agitated and angry, only Armin in control of his emotions. 'I have been preparing for a terrible war, for when have you not tried to steal the wealth from this side of the Rhenus? Sigambri, Tencteri, Bructeri, Marsi; they have all attacked us in the past, as they did last year, as the Sigambri did this past week. Whether in pre-emptive strike or not, I know not, nor do I care. War confuses minds, and who began it? Gods know. Yet, all we want is peace, and it can finally be had when Maroboodus the Warmonger and the Sigambri and their troublemakers, Maelo, Baetrix, and Varnis, are peacefully in their mounds. After that, we shall all prosper. It is war and then peace, should you so desire. The Sigambri do not. They are not here.'

  Men were nodding sagely, even some of the more warlike chiefs, and Drusus smiled, for they seemed content with this, not pressing the issue of the Luppia Valley.

  Yet, a single man pushed through the Germani nobles.

  Armin walked up to Drusus, and everyone looked at him, going silent as he was tall and fierce, his blue eyes burning, and some of them knew he planned to resist Rome. Armin spoke, waving his hand around the seated men. 'Ever it is so that our men make war on each other. It is our way. I see the justification of Rome waging war on Maroboodus. I see your concerns for the Sigambri,' Armin said, and Drusus smiled. They looked like dark and light-skinned brothers. Warriors both, schemers and spear lords. 'Yet to ask for peace from the Cherusci, while you have subdued our northern neighbors, have an alliance with our southern ones, the Chatti, and plan to crush and occupy the Luppia River, our western friends. This is a great thing to ask for. Peace. Ever has it been so that our people talk of peace after the battle. Not before it. How could one speak of peace without a war? None know who is truly stronger. It might be so in Rome that words are weapons, but the Germani think deeds by spear mightier than words. And I say you shall not war on the Sigambri, no matter what you think is right or wrong.' Many men nodded at his words, mainly Marsi and Bructeri and the glowering Inguiomerus, though reluctantly, for he had little love for his nephew. Sigimer looked down, waiting for his son to speak.

  Drusus sighed. 'Luppia. Always about Luppia. Why is this river as a dividing line such a great thing for you, my friend? We keep crossing it, but the war will not end until one of us pacifies the other. Sigambri, or us. And they cannot.'

  Sigimer got up, stretching. 'I am the war king, the thiuda. My son, my advisor. What he says is this: if you come to take Luppia, if you build your forts and harbors along the Luppia River, if you lay a stone on the ground for your roads, we will rise up and fight. Then you will have a proper war on your hand, young lord. Instead, attack Maroboodus, and forget the Sigambri. Let them be. We will help them live in peace, tell them to stay their war bands. We can, perhaps, suffer the traitors to our north,' he said, with a hostile glance at the Chauci, 'but you are aiming for the heartlands of our kindred, and this is where it should stop. We agree with you that Maroboodus is not a man to trust, but the Sigambri are not your prey to hunt.'

  Drusus was glaring at the two men who stood before him, making threats.

  Armin shook his head and pointed north. 'It would ease our minds, Lord Drusus, if your legions did not concentrate on Castra Vetera, and you let us speak to Maelo this year. Bring your troops here, drive the Suebi off. But, do not come to Luppia. That is all there is to it.' He stood before the high Roman noble, one of the highest men in the Roman Empire, and spoke with casual strength and straightforwardness that left even Drusus in shadow. Armin's eyes, usually kind, were keen and sharp.

  Finally, Drusus spoke. 'This is a harsh choice you offer. Sit and wait, hoping you to keep the wild Sigambri at check? They attacked us again, not a week past—'

  'They did not, lord,' Armin said, with a sneer. 'But it would seem convenient, if someone burnt a few houses in the lands of the Ubii to make it seem they are hostile.'

  'Are you saying I staged a farce? That I lie?' Drusus asked Armin mutedly.

  'Yes,' he told him back, and the men around him whispered at his bravery. 'I do.'

  Drusus stood there for a long time, but Armin did not flinch, nor apologize. Drusus had sown seeds of distrust between the Marcomanni and the Cherusci, and now the Roman looked to the Chatti, I noticed, wondering what they thought and nodded carefully. 'Rome shall take on the Sigambri and their allies, for a lasting peace. I will take Maroboodus's head as well, though not this year.'

  'You will war with the Sigambri for their fertile lands,' Inguiomerus spat. ‘That is the truth.’

  'And we will make slaves of even their children. We keep the offer alive, my friends. After the conquest of Luppia is accomplished, we offer peace to all who did not appear on the battlefield. Stay off Luppia, and you shall be friends. Fight, and you shall be visited by the evil boys you passed the day you arrived. For now, our business is concluded. Now, we shall feast and boast, as is your way, and soon, we shall see whose boasts come to pass. Trust me, my lords. My boasts rarely fail to impress in their accuracy. I am honest.'

  Wodenspear laughed spitefully. 'A man told me something like this last year when he sold a sick horse to my son. He boasted he would rather die than pay us back. He said the gods had promised him a long life. Now, he is dead by my hand. So, we shall hear your boasts, my lord.'

  Drusus shrugged at him. 'I am not selling you a horse, Wodenspear. I need mine for war.' There was a general laugher. Men liked him, even if they distrusted Rome.

  Segestes, worried over the esca
lating situation, got up, not gracefully, and his hands fluttered. 'Perhaps we could exchange hostages? If Rome takes the lands of the Sigambri and leaves them unfortified, and we have some hostages, then perhaps—’ Men scoffed at him, and even Drusus shook his head.

  He waved his hand lazily. 'I will not do so. A Roman word is better than hostages; few receive it though. You did. War we will have, if you will have it. Germani women will wail in the woods, should you decide wrong.'

  Wodenspear grunted. 'You have taken quite a few of our women, Roman. This time, there will be men to welcome you.'

  Drusus nodded. 'Some of you will be enemies, others friends, and so the dice is cast. Tonight, we feast, and in the morning, finish the talks with those who love us better than our swords.' The young lord mingled with the Germani fearlessly, and I dare say, few disliked him.

  Armin walked to Drusus. They were discussing in quiet, rumbling tones, standing at first, then sitting, like two fighting pit dogs sizing each other up, and it went on for an hour. They were leaning close to each other, like the best of friends gossiping about the harvest or some woman who had broken their hearts. One looked happy, the other unhappy, and then the roles switched as the two spoke. Drusus did not speak with Sigimer, nor Segestes. He avoided Inguiomerus, who hovered nearby, hoping to catch a word, or two, with him. He even avoided the Chatti, nodding at Ebbe and Oldaric briefly, and complimenting Adgandestrius with a short sentence, for the fool blushed. Like a maiden, I thought and chuckled.

  None came to speak with me; most looked troubled when my eyes met them.

  I drank ale and mead, looking at the faces intermingling around the clearing. More food, steaming meats, juicy fruits we had never seen before were served. Wine was offered, and that was a novelty for the Germani, going straight to their heads. Some men got into fights, and the cohorts looked at them uneasily. They had been told to stand ready, but not give the gathered nobles any excuse for bigger trouble. There would be trouble, no doubt, for Wodenspear and the Chatti were discussing and even without my father's men, these nations could brew trouble for Rome. They had many tens of thousands of men, after all.

  But, my father was needed to beat Rome. I knew this.

  He would know how to fight Roman armies; he would bring the discipline and the strength of arms into any set piece battle.

  Unless Armin could do so as well.

  I decided that was what Drusus was trying to determine. I snorted. All bastards, the lot. I turned to look for Cassia, but she was not there, and so I drank more. The lictors of Drusus were groaning at the feasting barbarian lords, many getting drunk and teasing the toga-wearing men brusquely, trying to steal their axes and rods. Drusus's eyes twinkled at all his enemies and friends, as he drank and ate with them, and the evening turned into night, when he approached me. I sat up, stood up, feeling dizzy on my feet, for I had drunk much, and I lurched as I took a step. I gazed at his eyes carefully, and he nodded for me to walk with him. He was leaving.

  'You countrymen,' he grinned, a bit drunk, 'are a happy sort. I love the Batavi, I do, but I think one day I will love the Cherusci and the Chatti and the lot of them as well.'

  'You certainly loved Armin,' I told him suspiciously, slurring a bit.

  'Hraban!' yelled a man, and I turned. Drusus stopped uncertainly, about to speak, but I shook my head at him, and faced the man. It was a wide man, his face ruddy and red, with a dark beard plaited in silver, wearing elk leathers and a ring mail, his hand on a two-headed, two-handed axe on his back. 'I say you are a piece of traitorous shit,' he grinned, very drunk. I gazed at the man and deduced he was a Cherusci. I glanced at Armin, who was standing further away, looking at the confrontation, and he shrugged. It was not his doing. Men were turning to look at the drunken warrior, as he made a mocking bow to me. 'A traitor and a liar. A piss-soaked pup.'

  'Who are you?' I asked him with spite.

  'Ragwald. That's who! A champion of Segestes. And I dislike your face,' he smiled. I ignored Drusus who tried to grab me and walked for the drunken man, carrying my helmet. Ragwald grinned as he walked forward, a man larger than I was. 'Do you have something to tell a man who is a champion of a hundred fights? A bark? A whimper? Come, show your measure! Sandal-smelling rodent, you.' He grabbed me by my armor. 'I say—'

  But, he did not, for I smashed his face with the helmet so hard he flew around and onto his belly. Segestes got up ponderously. 'Step back, son,' he told me sternly.

  'Drown in your lard,' I told him thickly, and kicked Ragwald so hard he yelped. I was angry and disappointed, and decided to humiliate the bastard. I untied my pants and took a long, clear piss on Ragwald's neck. He tried to get up, but I stomped on his right hand, something cracked, and his eyes showed whites as he passed out in agony. 'So you all can see my measure,' I growled at them, finishing my relief, and Ebbe laughed raucously and many joined him. I was done eventually, feeling much relieved, and left Ragwald unconscious, Segestes cursing me softly, and walked to Drusus. 'Shall we go?'

  He looked troubled and nodded. As we walked off to the dark, he shook his head. 'I wish I could do that to some men I know in Rome. It would be a shock, it would. They would smell of perfumes, strut around like peacocks, speaking like they were gods. Then I would smash them in their faces and piss on their mouths. Ah! Wonderful. Perhaps I shall hire some Germani to do it for me. Never ceases to impress how you people can piss when everyone is looking. I would likely stand there with a limp dick, trying to get even a drop out, until forced to give up in shame.' I giggled like a girl with him, and the lictors and the grinning Batavi followed us, their hulking, armored bodies taking the sides, as we walked for the gates in the darkness. 'Armin. I like him. I think he might be a dangerous man. If he survives the war. But, I don't think he is a good general. He is too young. He had no training.'

  'Only training in lies,' I slurred, and Drusus laughed, as he took a wrong step on horse dung, nearly falling over and grasping my shoulder in his distress. He waved the lictors off, and kept on walking.

  'One has to learn how to lie, if one is to rule. As for the keen art of strategy and war? Lies are essential in these as well, but he lacks the deeper skills in management of war, I think. He is not ready. Not yet. He has a lot to learn. But, he certainly is different from the other young men in your tribes. He would learn new ways quickly. Like your father did. Like you will,' he told me, and then I saw movement in the dark, men raising their heads not too far off, training bows, and so I did what Armin wished for, and tried to save Drusus.

  I jumped in front of him, for gods' sakes.

  Arrows flew around us. There were many, and one Batavi bellowed in pain and anger as he was hit. An arrow struck the wall near us, and guards shrieked warnings up on the battlements. The lictors jumped forward as one man, but two arrows flicked through them, and one hit me on the belly, as I covered Drusus who fell on his rear, astonishment clear on his face. I fell over him, looking at the shaft in horror, felt blood trickling under my tunic to my pants, and I ripped at the shaft, as the lictors pushed us to the ditch surrounding the fort, a long drop as we tumbled down. There were screams of warning in the dark, as men rushed to find the attackers, but they were gone.

  Drusus was over me, muddied and sodden, his finger grasping the arrow. He was grunting, and then slapped my hands so he could work in peace, and failing that, he slapped my face to calm me, and I did as he lifted the mail. His face lit up in a happy grin. 'Flesh wound, Hraban, just that. Your mail stopped it.'

  I groaned and lay back, only to land on watery mud. I was not drunk anymore, not in the least bit, and I let the chuckling general pull at the arrow and then snap it, and he slapped his hand on my chest and pulled me up. He gazed in my eyes. 'Thank you, Hraban.'

  'I … ' I began, but only nodded instead. Woden's breath, but Armin had shot arrows at us. Had he succeeded in killing Drusus like this, would it have served him well? Had he not asked me to kill Drusus, just before the campaign? Perhaps he had meant to kill me, then. Or b
oth. Armin played many games; I knew this already from his schemes earlier against Father. Had it been Catualda out there, actually hoping to slay me?

  I grabbed the arrow. The point was blunt, not sharp at all. Deadly still, but not against the armor of Drusus, for he was bound to wear it under the toga. I got up, hating the dangerous game. The grateful lictors dropped to the ditch and clapped my muddy back, without any heed to their voluminous garments getting dirty, and cheered me as a hero. Eventually, I was shown to my barracks, where my friends were already asleep. I sat down on the bed, thinking about Lif and begging Woden for luck, for it would be needed. How in Hel's name could I slay the man?

  For Lif, I reminded myself, and liberated a jug of wine from the guards and renewed my stupor.

  In the morning, I woke up soiled in piss, and could never be sure if it was Ansbor's, or mine.

  Fulcher sat next to me, as he avoided sitting too near, and explained why it was possible it was Ansbor's. 'Ansbor confronted her last night.'

  'Ah, that is why they were gone,' I told him, sniffling at my clothing. 'I suppose I should he happy it is not my blood.'

  'She told him something he did not wish to share with me,' Fulcher told me darkly. 'But, you likely know what this was. It would have been better, Hraban, had you done this months ago.'

  'Gods help me,' I said, miserable. I changed my clothes, feeling ill, for the moons were not favorable, and I felt a change was coming.

  CHAPTER XXV