The Conan Chronology

by J. R. Karlsson

  'Of course I could slay that puppy,' Odoac grumbled. 'But you are right, it would be impolitic for me to do so. There would be those who would name me kin-slayer even though I but defended myself.'

  'I, on the other hand, could slay him with impunity.' Totila did not mention that he was fairly certain that he had already slain that young man. 'Leovigild's life for Alcuina. Do you not think that is a fair trade, since I will after all be getting her with only half her dowry?'

  Odoac stroked his beard, pretending to be deep in thought. 'I still need an heir, you know.'

  Abruptly, Totila lost patience. 'Use your head, man!

  There are plenty of noble ladies with marriageable daughters who would be happy to have a king for son-in-law. Or find some peasant brat and pronounce him the long-lost son of your brother. It is not as if you intended to let him grow to manhood. You could buy fifteen more soft years on the throne with such a move.'

  'You speak wisely, my friend,' said Odoac, deeply cowed. 'Let us agree on this: We shall unite forces against the Cambres. When the fighting is over, if you have slain Leovigild, you shall have Alcuina and the northern half of her kingdom. I shall have the southern half. We shall part friends and march our men home.'

  Totila thrust forth a hand, and Odoac took it. Neither had the slightest intention of honouring the agreement except at his own convenience. Arms about one another's shoulders, they walked back to their men, smiling.

  'Is Odoac such a fool?' said Lilma, incredulous.

  King and wizard sat in a small tent of oiled hides half a day's march from Alcuina's garth. Night had fallen, and the men rested against the exertions of the morrow, Lilma had kindled a small, smokeless fire between them, and it cast sinister shadows upon their faces as they conferred.

  'Aye, he is a fool, but not so great a fool as that. He is merely a frightened old man with his best days behind him. He wants to hold on to his kingship for his few remaining years, and he knows not who to fear more—Leovigild or me. He does not like this alliance I have forced upon him, but he has no other choice.'

  'Will you let him march home peacefully after the battle is done?' Lilma asked.

  'That depends upon how things look at the time. If his men have taken many losses and we have taken few, I might well settle with him at that time. If we are seriously weakened, perhaps we must wait another year or two. Undoubtedly we should beat them, but why drain all my power in a second battle if things can be arranged more advantageously? After all, I have great plans, and eliminating my little northern rivals are a small part of them. I do not wish to be weakened for my southern conquests.'

  'As my lord says,' Lilma soothed. 'Might not matters be simplified if Odoac were to be slain in the coming battle?'

  Totila thought. 'Perhaps. If he were to be slain by the Cambres. If I slew him, his men would not follow me.'

  'Suppose Leovigild was to slay him?'

  'Eh?' Totila was mystified. 'Leovigild? I've already done for the boy. He is dead by now, from the wounds I dealt him.'

  'The Thungians do not know that. I can raise a phantom, fashioned in the guise of young Leovigild. The Thungians will see Leovigild strike him down, then you may deal with the phantom, which will die most realistically.'

  Totila smiled widely. 'Can you truly do that? Then the Thungians would be bound in honour to follow me, as the avenger of their slain lord.'

  'Just so,' said Lilma, nodding.

  Totila slapped his knee in delight. 'Then that is what we shall do! I have never killed the same man twice, but I am willing to do it.'

  Odoac and his chief warriors sat around their fire, glumly staring into the flames. They had eagerly anticipated the coming fight with the Cambres. The appearance of the Tormanna had stolen much of the zest from the enterprise. A senior warrior with much grey in his brown beard addressed his king.

  'We came hither to get Alcuina's lands, and we'll not do that with Totila here. I say we go home and wait for a better time.'

  There was a slight grumble of agreement, but another warrior objected. 'No! Will we let it be said that the Thungians took the warrior's road only to turn back like whipped dogs without a blow being struck? I'll not live with such shame!' Many roared agreement.

  'And so should say all true men!' yelled 'Odoac, who wanted above all else not to go back and let his men spend the rest of the winter brooding about the fiasco their king had led them into.

  'If we get only half her lands this year, what of it? There is always next year. It is just that now the Cambres and the Tormanna are too much for us to take on at one time. By next year, things may be different. We can first take the rest of the land of the Cambres, then turn west to take Totila. But for now we must have this alliance. It binds us to nothing after this fight is won.' This time most of the men signified approval. For all its faults, this plan would at least allow them to fight and then return home with honour. None of them cared to contemplate going home to face the women and the old ones should they return with spears unbloodied.

  Odoac smiled at his men, hiding his relief. All he asked now was a little land, his reputation as a war-chief restored, and the corpse of Leovigild at his feet. All these things he might have upon the morrow.

  'There they are,' Conan said.

  He stood beside Alcuina upon the walk that backed the palisade. All of the Cambres of fighting age who could elbow a place at the wall were there as well. At intervals along the wall stood bundles of crude, hastily-made javelins and piles of rocks, from fist-sized up to small boulders a foot in diameter. This kind of defensive warfare was alien to the Cambres, but Conan had insisted that it was their only chance in the face of superior numbers. They had learned that his word in these matters was to be trusted.

  'There are a great many of them,' Alcuina said, trying not to let worry creep into her voice.

  The tree line beyond the plain of Giants' Stones was growing black with warriors, the sun casting bronzen gleams from helm and cuirass, the men nearly indistinguishable except for the broad, round shapes of their shields. There were two distinct groups, nearly equal in size but several yards apart.

  'They may be allies,' said Siggeir with a grin, 'but the Thungians and the Tormanna have little love for one another.'

  A sound of axes cutting trees came to them across the plain.

  'They are preparing,' Conan said. 'Now they make ladders to scale the wall.'

  'Will they succeed?' asked Alcuina.

  'In time they would,' said Conan. 'This fort stands upon flat ground without motte or moat, no more than a stockade. An experienced army would take this place in little more time than if there were no wall at all. Since those men have probably never assaulted a wall except

  to steal their neighbours' chickens, they may be stymied for a day or so.'

  'Will that be enough?' she asked. . 'If al! goes well. You see a great host out there on the plain, but there are only two dangerous men: Lilma and Totila. I must deal with Totila. Rerin says he can settle with Lilma.'

  'I pray to Ymir that it be so.' She drew her fur cloak more closely about her, but not against the cold.

  Within an hour the enemy host was moving upon the garth; Conan ordered all except warriors off the wall. Since the enemy had no siege engines, there was little immediate danger to them except from an occasional javelin skimming over the wall. In Conan's opinion, anyone who could not dodge a javelin deserved to be skewered.

  'Get ready,' Conan called. 'Don't begin throwing things until you can't miss them. There is no hurry. They'll make easy targets when they get to the base of the wall.'

  All around him were men wearing nervous grins of anticipation. They were eager to fight. In southern armies, half of Conan's work as an officer had been in driving reluctant men to fight. Here he would have to keep a sharp lookout lest they rush to the courtyard, throw open the gate, and run out to fight hand-to-hand, the way they liked best.

  The allies came on shouting. Some carried long ladders. Conan could tell from the wa
y the ladders were held that these men had never stormed a wall. They would learn soon enough, however, just as they had learned to deal with horsemen. He scanned the unranked mob of enemies. He saw few of the long pikes such as he had used against the hunter. He was relieved. With a wall as low as this, such pikes could be used to force defenders back from the palisade, allowing a few intrepid warriors to make their way up the ladders and onto the wall walk. Once the enemy had a secure foothold on the wall, more could scramble up the ladders with relative impunity, and the defence of the wall, and therefore the siege, would be over. Except for the slaughter of the remaining defenders.

  The attackers reached the base of the wall and missiles began to fall on them. They raised their shields high and shouted at the defenders to come down and fight like men. The reply was yet more missiles. Clumsily, the ladders began to go up. At first they were easily shoved aside, but the efforts of the attackers became more determined, and soon the braver men were essaying an assault on the palisade.

  Conan saw a shield lurch over the wall with a bird-crested helmet behind it. His first blow lowered the shield and his second clove the helm. In falling, the man swept the man behind him off the ladder. Conan reached out to push the ladder aside, but by accident or design the ladder-bearers had done the correct thing and positioned the top of the ladder well below the top of the wall. Thus, in order to shove it aside, the defenders would have to lean far out over the wall in order to reach the ladder. A rain of javelins drove Conan back.

  Another man reached the top of the ladder without a shield, but swinging an axe in both hands. He manoeuvred the bulky weapon with such speed that Conan was hard-pressed to keep his shield between himself and the whistling blade. He waited until the axe was going back for a swing, then stepped in, smashing the shield's central boss into the man's face and following

  the blow with a cut at the man's right side. Ribs crunched below the edge of the bronze cuirass, and the man fell screaming. Conan grabbed a spear and wedged its shaft under the ladder, using the top of the palisade as a fulcrum to lever the ladder away. His great strength allowed him to push the ladder back in spite of the three men clinging to it.

  The ladder men along the wall were being similarly repulsed. Below, men were throwing back the rocks and javelins, but throwing upward they were severely handicapped. Some of the defenders derisively caught the stones in flight and cast them back to good effect. After a few minutes of that a trumpet sounded.

  Conan looked toward the sound and saw three men standing atop a low mound. One was short, fat, and grey-bearded. Another wore the skins and antlers of reindeers. It was the third who drew Conan's attention. The lowering sun glanced from his magnificent helmet in multicoloured shards. A long, piebald cloak hung from his broad shoulders. Odoac, Lilma, and Totila. And now Conan realised that Odoac only appeared to be short when standing next to the giant king of the Tormanna. So this was the man he must face.

  It was Totila who had sounded the horn, and the men below began to pull back from the wall, screaming in their frustration at such unmanly war-making. The defenders atop the wall cheered and shouted taunts at the withdrawing foe.

  'We've beaten them! They run like whipped dogs!' Siggeir whooped and shouted a traditional victory cry.

  'Save your celebrating for tomorrow's nightfall,' Conan cautioned. 'We've stopped them this time. They'll know the work better next time. By the third assault, we'll not keep them out, unless some new circumstance comes to our aid.'

  'You're cursed gloomy, Cimmerian,' Siggeir said.

  'I am the happiest of men,' Conan told him, 'after the battle is won.'

  'Totila comes!' called a defender.

  The tall king covered the plain with long strides. Odoac stepped along quickly beside him. Lilma was nowhere to be seen. Conan smiled in reluctant admiration. The man might be of base blood as the Cambres maintained, but he was as kingly as any monarch Conan had ever seen reviewing an army, clad in purple cape and plumed helm. Fearlessly, the man walked up to the wall, ignoring the danger from stone and spear. Unwilling to shame himself before his followers, Odoac stood beside him.

  'Queen Alcuina!' Totila called.

  'She has no use for the likes of you,' said Siggeir, spitting upon the ground beyond the wall.

  Totila ignored the underling as if he did not exist. 'Queen Alcuina, I wish a few words with you!' Totila stood planted on the spot as if he were willing to wait for the rest of his life. There was a rustling of skirts and cloak as Alcuina mounted the wall.

  'My lady!' said Siggeir, scandalized. 'Do not demean yourself by parleying with this scum. We've the upper hand now.' Others agreed loudly.

  'Hear what he has to say, Alcuina,' Conan advised. 'It can have no bearing on relations between you and him, but it may tell us much about how things stand down there.' He nodded to where the host stood massed. Now that the attack was over, the men were once more divided into two groups.

  'Ah, my dear Alcuina,' Totila called. 'How good

  of you to come. This unpleasantness between our peoples pains me sorely, as it does my brother king, Odoac of the Thungians. Yet these matters may be set aright easily. You have not in the past seen fit to answer my suit for your hand. I ask you to reconsider now. After all, when we wed you will still be queen of the Cambres, and of the Tormanna as well.'

  'And what does your brother king get from this?' Alcuina said haughtily.

  'Where is my dear nephew Leovigild?' demanded Odoac. 'I have missed him since his hasty and unwarranted flight from my garth. Why is he not up there on the wall with you? Or does he cower in rightful fear of his uncle's anger?'

  'What makes you think your nephew is here, you Thungian tub of suet?'

  This set Alcuina's men laughing uproariously, and the Tormanna laughed only a little less loudly. Even some of the Thungians were hard-pressed to restrain their grins. The others looked shamefaced, not because their king had been insulted, but because he made such a poor showing in front of these people. Conan missed none of these things.

  'Get you gone, both of you!' Alcuina commanded. 'I'll wed neither a swine nor a bandit.'

  Totila whirled and stalked away with dignity, each sway of his cloak reminding the viewers of how many champions and chiefs he had slain. Odoac scuttled after him, while the Cambres jeered.

  Alcuina stood close to Conan and spoke so only he could hear. 'It is a great pity that Totila is such a beast. He would treat my people like thralls. Otherwise, baseborn or not, I'd wed him.'

  Conan grinned down at her. 'As you've said, a queen must choose her husband for political reasons. Aye, he's a real man; I'll grant him that much.'

  'Now you have seen him close up. Think you still that you can defeat him?'

  Conan looked insulted. 'I said he was a real man, but I'm a better!'

  'What kind of fighting is this?' Odoac groused. 'Climbing walls like thralls escaping bondage!' He spat into the fire in disgust. 'Why will they not come out and fight us?'

  'Because we outnumber them better than two to one,' said one of his men reasonably.

  'What kind of reason is that for true men?' Odoac snorted. 'I am especially disappointed in my nephew. The same blood fills his veins that fills mine. You would think he'd show more spirit. Perhaps some thrall crept into my brother's bed while he was off cattle-raiding, and begot Leovigild. He is a disgrace to the family.'

  'I spoke with some of Totila's men,' said a young warrior hesitantly. 'Some of them said that they knew Leovigild by sight, and they had seen him leading one of the horse-ambushes against the Tormanna.'

  'Indeed?' said Odoac. 'Then why did we not see him today? Does he fear to meet his uncle?'

  'They told me,' said the young warrior, 'that he fought Totila, and the king struck him down. They think he is surely slain.'

  This puzzled Odoac. Had he agreed to a condition that was already met? Was Totila really so clever that he bargained with a game piece he had already taken? It infuriated Odoac to think so, and he did not
want his men to think he had been gulled.

  'It must have been some other young fool Totila slew. My nephew would never have the courage to face such a man.'

  Before the fire had burned much lower, Totila himself came to visit his ally. The king strode dramatically into the ruddy glare and stood before the seated Odoac.

  'Greeting, Odoac. We had a slow start today, but we began late. Tomorrow we shall have Alcuina's garth in our hands ere the sun sets.'

  'And Alcuina in yours,' grumbled Odoac.

  'Such was our bargain,' Totila rejoined. 'You, of course, shall have—'

  'I know what our agreement was,' Odoac broke in hastily. 'Come, sit by me and have some ale.'

  The two kings sat, passing the ale-horn back and forth, speaking of inconsequential things. They put on a fine show of solidarity and friendship for the assembled Thungians. The celebration of good fellowship was interrupted when a tall, slender figure stepped from the surrounding shadows into the firelight.

  'Greeting, Uncle.'

  Odoac's breathing became laboured, and he grew crimson in the face. 'Leovigild! You dare! You—you—'

  Odoac struggled to his feet, fumbling at his sword hilt. Totila stood behind him. The Thungians, struck dumb at this unexpected sight, did not move at all.

  Smiling gently, the young man before Odoac thrust the spear he was carrying deep into the capacious belly of the king. Odoac looked down in disbelief at the shaft protruding from his stomach. He opened his mouth to scream, but all that emerged was a gush of dark blood. Odoac collapsed sideways, and died.

  With a shout, freed from their paralysis, the Thungians jumped to their feet. Totila was quicker. He whipped his sword out with unbelievable swiftness, and the long, heavy blade was descending through the skull of Odoac's murderer before the warriors were fully on their feet. Those standing nearest were spattered with blood, brains, and teeth. Then they were goggling with wonder at the inert form upon the ground. Totila had made such a ruin of the skull that the features were no longer recognizable.