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

by Alaric Longward

  He got off his horse, sitting down on a gilded chair set up for him.

  A priest appeared with a toga covering his head, and the standards waved in the air. It was an old man, hunchbacked and swathed in white. I noted there was a fire burning by Drusus, and the priests walked next to it, holding a bowl, praying for a long, long time, long enough for Drusus to start fidgeting in his chair, to the amusement of some of the XIX veterans. Finally, the priest poured the liquid from the bowl to the flames. The army, and evidently the war, had been purified. I scrutinized the men in white carefully.

  Then, something familiar followed.

  A set of notes were blown by aenators, the men in charge of the legion's cornu, buccina and tuba. Out came sacrificial animals, a fat bull and a thick-necked ram, which tried to break free, running erratically around, held by sweating auxilia Gauls, and there was also a pig that came along peacefully, comically staring at the ram with abject pity, as if understanding the futility of the resistance. Two haruspices went forward, and the animals were stopped near Drusus. There was no speech, only the butchery, and the animals died messily, the Gauls dripping with blood, desperately trying to avoid sprinkling any over the Roman nobilitas looking on dispassionately.

  The augurs went to work. It took time, as the liver was cut out, its various knots and knobs searched by expert fingers, and when one of the priests got up, nodded and smiled, a veritable sea of cheers went up from the Roman troops. Drusus grinned at the cheering men, nodded at the priests, and got up to address the army, which slowly went silent. Not many could hear him, of course, for the army was vast, not all spoke Latin even, but they all stood in rapt attention anyway. We were close enough to hear, and he stood up high, his silvery armor and greaves sparkling in the sun, the Greek style sword, favored by the officers, in a silver sheath catching sunlight, as if designed to do so.

  'Men of Rome! Our allies! My brutal boys!' he yelled. 'Last year, the XVIII Legion made a fortune! They sat here, guarding this tiresome fort, relaxing as only a legionnaire can relax, doing light training and some forced marches.' Men laughed, and yelled agreement, even the ones who could not hear him. Drusus grinned. 'The Sigambri attacked them. There were five thousand of them, a horde of angry warriors, and we didn't even count their allies.' More laughter and catcalls. 'Essentially, the lucky bastards made a fortune on Sigambri slaves, and not a few of the lucky boys are now lazy with their wealth! This is not right!' Men jeered him and the legionnaires of the XVIII. Drusus adopted a serious expression, and was rewarded by expectant faces. 'This year, we asked them why they attack us again and again, year after year. They declined to show up in the peace meeting, but attacked the Ubii instead.' Drusus looked sad. 'So, we will go, and ask them ourselves. They will explain their actions, after we are done with them. This year, we are going to be fair. All of you get your share. Romans will make a ton of money. Why should XVIII alone get the gold and women? I want my share! So we go to war, and make peace over burnt villages.'

  'The bastard is good,' Fulcher told me, as he came to stand near.

  'He is very good,' I agreed.

  Drusus waited for them to go silent. It took time. 'It is true. Some will stay home, some will guard the new forts, but there will be bonuses to all, none shall be forgotten. Yet, make no mistake, the battle, men, will not be easy. They fight like badgers when cornered, but they lack cunning, training, and weapons. We will prevail, and I shall be proud of you. On to victory! Follow your commanders, fight well, and if you die, I shall never forget you. I will not forget your family!' Men roared again on top of their lungs, but the questor and the military tribune looked at each other uncertainly.

  Chariovalda walked over and leaned on me 'He made no mention of Augustus, or Rome, which is why the two bastards are nervous. The tribune is Marcus Lollius Paulinus, a creature of Augustus; it was his father who lost the eagle.' Chariovalda nodded towards the gilded eagle moving to its legion.

  'So what is the plan? Do we know who are out there?' I asked, awestruck at the massive show of loyalty, which shook a man to the core. Such energy, so many men marching for this one young general, unquestioningly ready to plunge into the woods and hills filled with enemies. And Armin planned to topple them? I would go and join him?

  Madness.

  He spat towards the east, missing Ansbor's foot by an inch. 'We have scouts around in the east; ships have been roving up the Luppia River. They tell us Inguiomerus of the Cherusci is busy with Semnones, and Sigimer is so with the Chauci, our allies. Segestes is, as you know, more Roman than most here,' he smiled wolfishly. 'It looks pretty straightforward. Rome versus the Luppia River Valley, and no Cherusci taking part in this party. However, we must be careful; he said they lack cunning. You know this is not true.' He was thinking about Armin.

  'What will we do? Do we have targets? Plans? What of the Chatti?' I asked.

  He shrugged. 'Thurwag the Matticati has been keeping an eye on the Chatti. Nothing. No report of their movements. Hermanduri have been attacking the Quadi for a month, there are reports of your father warring there. Sorry, lad.'

  I nodded, cursing. I hoped no Hermanduri speared Maroboodus before I did.

  Chariovalda nodded at the emerald green and topaz blue waters flowing to Rhenus from the east. 'Luppia is the key. We have the river in the middle. We will rush to the gates of the Cherusci on the left bank of the river, and build forts along the way, and then we turn north, and raze all the Marsi and Bructeri settlements until they give up. There are also Tubanti and Salii, small tribes beyond Bructeri to the north, and if they don't yield, we burn them to Hades, too.' Chariovalda examined his horse.

  'Burn?' I asked absentmindedly, as I thought of Hard Hill and the night we burned it, and of Grinrock.

  'Burn and kill, take slaves, until they give up. Then, and only then, we turn to the Sigambri across the Luppia, late in the campaign season, if we must, and Varnis and Maelo, Baetrix on the other side of the river, will face our wrath. They will expect us to attack them first. We attack them last. The forts will defend our back, and cavalry,' he told me, and scanned the Sigambri side of the river. 'The Ubii will sortie against them tomorrow, to keep them busy. Why have allies if you cannot expend them for a good cause, eh?' he asked.

  'Like Rome used the Batavi?' I asked maliciously, and he spat.

  'We are different.'

  I laughed. 'Usipetes and Tencteri?' I asked.

  He shrugged. 'They always fight alongside Sigambri. We will get them, too. But, we will go for the Bructeri first, flipping the river to our cause, and keeping them sliced up like eels.'

  I scanned the army, deep in my thoughts. 'There will be many mules with the troops. Good for eating, perhaps?'

  Chariovalda grinned. 'Yes, I suppose, though troops who have been forced to munch on their unhappy baggage animals claim it is the final revenge of the four-legged bastards on them. Terribly chewy and tasteless. See, each squad of eight has two, and some slaves to gather food and lead the mules with their personal gear. It is a city on a march!'

  'Lots of wealth with a legion then,' I mused, and thought how rich a man could become by crushing even one.

  'Capture a standard bearer, as he holds all the coins for their unit!' Chariovalda laughed, but glanced at me suspiciously, regretting that bit of advice. 'Luppia is around a hundred Roman miles, legion marches as fast as its pack animals, but we should make it in four days, we will range there in two on horses, depending on what is out there. We control the river, they are split, and the forts and navy will make it hard for them to cross, even if they ignore the Ubii,' he said, mounting his horse.

  I was thinking. 'And the cattle and grain, it follows? There will be a massive number of grain needed?'

  He shrugged. 'One legion consumes forty thousand pounds of water a day. Happily, that flows next to them. The grain need is nearly twenty thousand pounds, and our horses need forty. I do not envy the supply officers. We will all go hungry for days. However, hungry or not, we will win. And we wi
ll eat their food as well.' He nodded towards the enemy.

  'And the ships here will eventually supply the forts, which will supply the troops?' I mused.

  'Yes, this is why your people cannot stay on field for a long time. Germani have their women pack food for them for a week, or two, and then you go home. We will stay here until it's done.'

  'And them?' I asked. A group of wagons was drawing close, and the jingle of chains was evident.

  'Slavers. Now, I see you when I see you. Obey the Decurion, and you should be fine. Guard the fort tomorrow. Drusus will pray this night, alone, and gods will listen. Come morning, this war begins.'

  I nodded, and turned to walk back to the castrum.

  Many things would take place that evening. Most of them fatal. And Drusus would not be praying, but dying.

  CHAPTER XXIX

  I sat on a bunk, and stared at my friends as they piled in. Ansbor had had his beard trimmed, and looked soldierly in his chain mail and helmet; Fulcher's red hair was hanging over his shoulder, as he was leaning forward on the bed. Cassia waited nervously, and we sat, and said nothing. I looked at my hands; they were trembling.

  'Out with it,' Ansbor grunted, grabbing a mug of wine. He had grown very accustomed to the Roman way of life. He pointed a finger at me. 'Cassia said you are making plans. Such plans usually mean pain and death for us.' He had received Leuthard's huge sword back, and he struggled with it as he removed it from his hip. 'So just spit it out, and we can discuss it.'

  'You both gave me an oath,' I told them heavily.

  'Yes, we did, but …' Ansbor began, but Fulcher put a hand on his chest to silence him. He looked at Fulcher incredulously and shrugged the hand off, and they glowered at each other until Cassia sighed and came forward.

  'Lif?' she said. 'It is about her.'

  I nodded. 'Armin has captured Hands. Hands had my daughter. Armin has them both, and he …'

  'Offers you Lif, if you join him?' Cassia said profoundly. 'You would betray your promises to Drusus.'

  'Ah, if that was the only thing he wishes,' I snickered and rubbed my face. 'He wants Drusus dead. This night. Just before the war begins.'

  They stared at me in stupefaction. Ansbor opened his mouth several times, pointing a quivering finger my way, then drunk down the wine with loud gulps. Fulcher was scowling to himself, very unhappy, and Cassia was speechless for once.

  Only for a moment, though.

  'And what did you tell him?' she asked, and kicked a stool, which flew to the corner with a crack and clatter.

  I stared at the wreck, and then at her. 'He has Lif.'

  She stuttered and sat down worryingly, burying her face in her hands. 'Surely Armin would not hurt her.'

  'He has Lif, and he can be a very ruthless man, the pretty Armin,' I said hollowly. 'Catualda is with Armin. God knows how many men who dislike Armin see her there. Men my father can buy. If she is flaunted there as my daughter, do you not think Odo will know? Eh?' I asked, and beat the bed with my fist. 'So I have no choice!'

  'Can you do it?' Fulcher asked with a tired face. 'Can you kill that man?'

  'I do not know,' I said. 'We have guards. One is watching Cassia, of course, all the time, but they are watching us as well.'

  Fulcher nodded. 'Yes, I have seen them. One man for each of us. And you want me to take care of them?'

  'You and I. Then you will slay the man guarding Cassia, and take her far away, to safety,' I told him. 'We shall meet later, perhaps.'

  'That is a lot of slaying in the midst of twenty thousand hostile men. And where will this take place?' Cassia asked. 'This foul deed?'

  'I … he is going to pray at the temple this night. He usually does before the war,' I told her, looking down. 'You will stay in your barrack, Cassia. Let Fulcher silence the man who is guarding you. Then travel south, west, far from here. Change your name.'

  She went to her knees and pulled up my face. 'There comes a point, Hraban, when you can no longer justify evil by the loss of your honor, friends, or daughter.'

  I nodded, my eyes burning with shame. 'This is not such a point. He is, after all, the enemy of our people.'

  She got up, her face drawn. 'I thought you were a good man. A man worth loving.' I opened my mouth, as she let her hands brush my cheek. She put a finger over my mouth, as my friends looked on with stony faces. 'I'll obey, Hraban. But, nothing good will come out of this. I will swim in this mad river, for you saved me once, and I fell in love with you when you tried to help me up the hill that night they sent you away. So I will suffer what comes. For love. And for Lif.'

  I stared at her as she left. Ansbor's face looked feverish, devoid of life, ashen with streaks of sweat pouring down his face. Fulcher glanced at him, and then at me, and he spoke. 'The men keeping watch at you are lax. They follow you from afar, not bothering with stealth. I know the men who take turns to watch me. I need not slay them. I can lose them easy enough.'

  I nodded. 'This evening, when the night falls, Drusus will go to the temple. If he does not, I have to find him in the field, or praetorium. I will leave this barracks, and walk towards the town at first. Fulcher, there is a narrow alleyway, just past that brown hut with the reddish thatch. We drank wine there with the legionnaires. Hide there, and when I have passed, we will make these men into corpses. Then, Fulcher, you shall take Cassia far away. Perhaps to Lugdunum. Wait for me to call for you. It would be best if you stayed there, with her.'

  He nodded carefully. 'I am to murder two innocent men? Three, if the man guarding me is not lazy this night?'

  Ansbor spat. 'No men are innocent.'

  'I need you, Ansbor, to fetch me a haruspex,' I told him. 'Ask one to meet me at the temple, tell him we need a divination done. Then stay far. Your guard need not suffer. You are just a soldier asking for divine help, and that is normal.'

  'But, this priest will suffer?' he asked.

  'I will need his robe,' I said hollowly, for I had slain holy men before.

  'You shall come to the temple, and take his robe. You will kill the man, and then the lord. And then we ride to Armin?' he asked.

  'I will get you. We flee, yes, to Armin,' I told him. He grunted, and got stiffly up, nodded at me and walked out. Fulcher gazed at me mysteriously.

  He pointed a finger at me. 'You gave him oaths?'

  'Drusus?' I asked timidly. 'Yes.'

  'Burlein and Lif restored you to the right road,' he told me sadly. 'Even after all the things that took place, you were an honorable man for one winter. This is for Lif? Not for something else? Were you promised power by Armin?'

  I shook my head. 'They promised me a marriage to Gunda, but I would spit on a marriage with a goddess, if only my daughter is safe with me.'

  He laughed as he shook his head, getting up. 'Let it be so then. We, Ansbor and I, will soil ourselves for you, my friend. He will do so out of duty, I will as well, but more so for you saved my daughter once. And think hard on what Cassia said just now. Dedication like hers you will never find again. Hopefully, her life is not a prize you have to pay for this. Ermendrud was already too high a one. I doubt we can hide her anywhere, if you succeed.'

  I nodded and watched him go. No, she would die as well. The woman who loves me. They would slay Ansbor and Fulcher as well, for none would be spared. It was very nearly impossible for them to escape, and I loathed myself. They had a chance, a small chance, and that was my gift to them. I cried, and felt thoroughly miserable.

  For Lif. Wyrd.

  Wearing Leuthard's chain mail and carrying my old helmet, I slinked out of the barracks. I had not moved much since our arrival, having sequestered myself to the barracks and the training grounds, taking the meals dutifully, but now I adjusted a tight caligae and then walked off towards the main gate. A mighty effort was ongoing; while most men of the legions were asleep, veteran campaigners all, the support troops were busy with preparations. And, of course, there were many men who took the time to meet with women. Rules were laxer that night. I stomped along
the busy lane, and smiled at some Batavi I knew. I gazed behind me, as the tuba blared in the fort, announcing the evening meal.

  It was dark, I was swift, and I noticed two young men, both apparently trusted slaves, or even soldiers, of Chariovalda, trying to keep up with me. I neared the gate, and a harried legionnaire in ring mail stopped me. 'Juppiter's left ball,' I growled at him, giving him the day's passphrase, something he had likely heard a thousand times already. I strode forward, aiming for the village, where men were enjoying last chances at peaceful existence with the local women. Near the woods by the town stood the temple, of Hercules this time, a long, if simple, wooden building, with high stone columns running around it, both Roman and Gaulish in its outlook. Drusus would come there, that night. I would be there.

  I stalked down the muddy path, passing some sheds and a pigsty, then the hut with the reddish thatch. I turned abruptly, dodging some soldiers rushing for their units. A shadowy, narrow path led towards the market, and there were several dozen halls around it. Most were sad, local houses where families lived, often the illicit families of rogue Roman soldiers, blithely ignored by the officers of the camp. One was the building I had noticed early in our training, a whorehouse, where destitute girls sold their wares. I felt sorry for the girls, but their backyard would suffice for something I had to do.

  I walked on; the mud was thick. I heard steps behind me and prayed to the gods things would go well. I turned.

  The two men stopped to look at me, surprised. Both were armed with short swords, both bearded men with young faces and they grinned at me uncertainly. 'You with Chariovalda?' I asked them.

  'We … yes,' said one of the men.

  The other one sneered. ‘You know what we do,' he said arrogantly. 'Are you going to visit that establishment?' he asked with a sniffle, nodding at the whorehouse that was not far.

  'No,' I told them, and prayed again, for Fulcher stepped out of the dark shadows and thrust his spear in the meek man's back, thrusting deep, twisting it out deadly quick and stepping forward. The other one stared at him in horror and ran, ripping out his sword, but I stepped forward with Nightbright out, and steeled my heart. I stepped even closer, as he slowed down and then he hissed, thrust the blade forward, and I dodged it, nearly slipping in the mud, but balanced enough to punch my blade to his chest, where it scraped on a bone, pierced muscle and meat, and split his heart. I grunted as I pulled him to the shadows, toppling him to the mud. 'Come, do as I did,' I told Fulcher.