“He says ‘no’ to him plenty,” she said acidly. “Of course, he does. Your father knows it is as it should be. Gervas is no dog, and your father is no beast. No, he only hates you.”
That sentence stung me like a dozen bees, and I felt betrayed, but of course, knowing she had seen him more than I had, she might have a point.
She went on. “He is important to Maroboodus. Gods know his sons are all gone, his blood wasted on criminals and oath breakers.” She gave me a fond smile and I smirked at her.
“He is mine,” I said simply. “Not his. No matter if Gervas is here, he is still mine.”
“We are all his,” she answered. “Remember that. So long as we are here, we are all his.” She bravely straightened her back. She rode up to the very top of a wild part of the hill, where older halls dotted the area. Then, we rode for an abandoned garden with a huge beech tree, and there a trunk waited for us. There we had sat almost daily for many months, looking over the distant South and the River Danubius, and from there you could see the North, where mountains rose majestically over the horizon, guarding the power of Maroboodus. Beyond that, the Hermanduri, and the Chatti, and up the rivers the Cherusci lived in an uneasy world threatened by Rome, and there, I supposed, Armin, the miserable fugitive fought to remain free. His father, Sigimer, if the old man was alive, would help him.
Segestes would be hunting for him.
I dismounted, Cassia followed suit, and we let the horses feast on old cabbages, as we sat down on the trunk. She gave me a fond kiss on the cheek, and tugged at my hair and beard. “You look like a Germani again.”
“You still look like a Roman,” I said. She did. She wore tunics of rich colors, and silver slithered around her arms and neck. She was a healer, and showed her importance and wealth. It was the Germani way not to be shy about one’s status. She did have plenty of silver and gold from the time of the rescue, which made her important in the village.
“I do not hate this place,” she said. “I haven’t been afraid since I arrived. Except …” Her eyes went past Sasas. “Every now and then.”
Leaving it, would rob her of a home, I realized. Again.
“I love Gaul best,” she explained, as if she read my mind. “But I will still follow you where you wish to go,” she added with a wink. “Don’t worry about me. You can be a stubborn arse sometimes, and not often wise, but I will follow you willingly.”
She clutched her arm with a frown and shook her head.
“What news of Rome? Have you heard anything?”
“I spoke with Gunhild,” she answered. I had not had the chance yet, and I was terrified of the prospect of speaking to my aunt. I had failed to protect her. I had failed to protect Burlein. She had suffered for it, and probably still did. She saw my look, and sighed and ruffled my hair. “You need to talk with her. But yes, I did hear something. She said Maroboodus met with Tiberius a week past. Remember, he was off for three days.”
“I remember,” I fumed. I didn’t like to be left out of such discussions. “Any news of the war, then?”
She leaned on me. “It is still going on. The South is burning from Greece to Italy. And no, I don’t know if you were mentioned.” She looked pale. “They say a hundred thousand have died in the war.” She looked horrified by the thought. “All those people…”
I clutched her hand, and pushed away the thoughts of the dead.
We had caused it.
She nudged me and wiped her eyes. “Sometimes, thinking of all the dead, it is hard to love you. Or myself.”
Her words stabbed like a spear in my gut. I felt the need to argue, to curse, and to try to deny her words, but instead, I kept quiet, until she smiled weakly. She spoke softly. “I fear every day, love, and love every day. A year of happiness, Raven. One year. It is more than many people get, but I am loath to let go of it. Back home—”
“We would always be in danger,” I said. “Perversely, this is the one place we might be relatively safe. And where is home? In Gaul? This is where my people live now.”
She hugged herself. “Fine, Gaul is not safe. Somewhere up there. Perhaps in Gothonia?”
I laughed, trying to push the gloom of her earlier words away. “Far in the North, eh? I’ve never been there. No, you know what I am planning for.”
She tugged at me. “If that plan fails, love, promise me that you will take Gervas to the North,” she said with a small voice, trembling. “Take him far to the North, where the Saxons live, and your Goths still prowl.”
I shifted, and touched the wood under me. The words seemed ominous, and dangerous. I didn’t look to the sky, to avoid seeing a crow or a raven flying over, and I didn’t wish to see anything else that might be thought ominous.
“We are not leaving yet,” I told her.
She pushed me gently. “I wanted to tell you I am sorry.”
“You are sorry?” I asked, shocked. “You just said you find it hard to love a man so swathed in blood of the innocents.”
She shook her head, thinking, pale. We had not spoken much of her time in Rome. I had not dared to ask her, any more than I had dared to confront Gunhild, because I feared she would blame me for everything that happened, and because I was afraid to learn what she had endured.
I had not asked her much about her time in Goldhelm.
I found Sasas in the shadows, staring at us.
She noticed, and grasped my hand. “I am sorry I let Livia charm me, and didn’t agree to leave when you planned to send us back,” she said. “And yes, I hated you when I waited for it all to end. For your damned stubborn plans, I hated you. I had Gisil and Wulf, I had Gervas, I had many other friends in my life that came and went.” She smiled at me and tugged at my hair. “I yearned for you. They made my life tolerable, but the ache was there every morning, and every evening, when my bed was empty. I feared for you, I hated you. When you released us, I hated you for forcing me to go, yet again, away from your side. I fear your plans. I do. I fear what they make you into. But I understand what you were doing, and are doing. When we must go, one day soon, and if we must leave him here, I shall hate you a bit again.”
I put a finger over her mouth. “You will be safe.”
She smiled wistfully and pushed my hand off. “I shall go with you. Even to the danger. I cannot be separated again, when you go to war.” She kissed me, long and hard and gazed into my eyes. “Our son will have to understand, if I die doing so.”
“Will have to understand?” I muttered. “No, we shall leave, yes. I am prepared. But to take you to war? I—”
“I won’t be sent away again, to make impossible choices alone,” she said with tears, and I knew there was something hidden in her words, “and I won’t stay behind.” She lifted her eyes, and kissed my cheek, as she got up. “Listen to your father,” she said.
I looked up to see Maroboodus on his horse, his red hair, streaked with some gray, moving in the wind. He nodded at me. Gervas was rushing for Cassia.
She caught him, and got up. She grasped the reins of her horse and I stared at my father. Maroboodus chuckled. “Your son, Hraban, spilled aged wine over my dog. Now the dog is terrified, because the other hounds try to lick and hump him. A brilliant jest. We all laughed until we could no longer stay on our seats.”
“I am happy you find him amusing,” I said dryly, and Cassia rolled her eyes, as she led a grinning Gervas away. Maroboodus smiled wistfully as they departed, and I twitched as Sasas left a man to watch me, and turned to follow her.
“She is far too good for you,” he said as he gave her a long look.
“I saved her to heal my friend from a wound given by one of your allies in Hard Hill,” I answered. “In a way, your evil gave her to me. And you have set an animal to watch her.”
He snorted. “I’ll geld the man if he so much as sneezes in her direction. She is valuable. Healed my fever last year.”
I glared at him. “She did? She should have given you another instead.”
He rolled his eyes at
me. “Sasas is the son of a Sarmatian chief. He is stupid as a rock, but good with the blade. He has given me good service, especially with the Hermanduri war. He goes where Gervas goes, and he watches Cassia. Marcus chose him, and he is right. The man is perfect. He is young, he has honor, he is a fool. He cannot be bribed. His men watch all of you.”
I scowled at him.
He rubbed his face, and nodded. “Fine! Aye, I know he stares at Cassia. I know why. They speak, occasionally, and I guess he is enchanted by her. Many man are. He won’t do anything. Just likes the look of a fine woman. There are some men who fall ill just so she can heal them. So.” He stretched his back and stared at me, as if trying to find words.
I stared back at him. Cassia had spotted him long before I had, and she, like I did, sensed there was something changing. I squinted at him. “So, I must congratulate you. Another child on the way? Woden knows how many there are. I know you had a taste for loose women, even when married to Gunhild.”
His eyes flashed. “You and I, we do not get along. I don’t expect us to. But do not insult me to my face. Not in front of Gervas either.”
I laughed. “You think you have any saying on what I tell him?”
He shook his head. “As agreed, Gervas stays here. You will go. Don’t make it hard for him to stay.”
I was leaving?
“I wonder how he will feel about your part in the deaths of his great grandfather and grandmother.”
“You have mewled about this long enough,” he said stiffly. “And you would do well not to tell him about any of that. It would hurt him severely. He knows me well, or at least the man I am today.” I glowered at him and he took a shuddering breath, and spoke. “So. Tiberius sends his regards.”
“You saw him a week ago,” I said pettily.
“Yes,” he answered. “I did. He is doing well now. He received a few more legions, led by the young fool.”
“Germanicus?” I asked.
He grinned. “The Pup. Germanicus arrived at the war with five new legions last year,” Maroboodus said dryly. “Five. Many are put together from cohorts of veterans recalled to the colors. Augustus is too terrified to think straight. There were over two hundred thousand enemy taking up arms last and even this year, and some pressed for Italy briefly. But five legions?” He snorted.
I agreed. “Far more than can be fed.”
“Far too many,” he agreed. “The battles have been few. They have taken place in Moesia, where this legatus Severus beat them back, though he took many losses. That Thracian king beat them once last year. Rhoemetalces, his name is. There was another butchery where the Breuci did well. Messallinus beat them, but only just. The rebels have failed to take any major cities, they have not won any battles, and are squatting in the mountain fortresses where they sally forth from. They are losing, the rebels. Of course, they are! Hunger, you see”
“Will it go on for some more time?” I asked him.
“It will,” Maroboodus said as he shifted in his saddle. “Perhaps one more year of war? Tiberius is in no hurry to finish it. Germanicus thinks he has an independent command, but he doesn’t, so they will not advance anywhere. Good thing for the rebels. Both Bato’s are greatly diminished. It is hard to scream ‘Death to Rome!’ when you are starving, isn’t it? It might be so that they have all already surrendered.” He smiled wistfully. “Tiberius controls everything. He takes his sweet time, but the old man in Rome is livid. He needs Tiberius to attack, but Tiberius won’t. Germanicus is being pushed forth much sooner than he is ready, so there will be a proper chaos for years.” He sniffled. “Germanicus seems like a staunch boy. And you liked him?”
“I did at first,” I said, looking ahead. I had once. “He is annoying and foolish, and he has … quirks, but he is the son of Drusus, and I did like him before he became arrogant little shit, and a would-be-murderer.”
He rubbed his beard. “Tiberius gave me some requests.”
I said nothing, and only stared at him. I nodded.
He went on. “He also thanked me profusely for my peace. And I thanked him for my land. Neither mentioned my son, and Livia wasn’t mentioned either. Drusus?” He shrugged. “No mention of him. He wants to make sure I am an ally,” he laughed, “so he is giving me great deal of power over the amber trade.” He shook his head. “And yet, all he gives, he can take away. He hopes to lull me into sleep.”
“Do you think so?” I asked, smiling.
“Yes, of course I do!” he snapped. “I wasn’t asking, but stating. I saw his eyes. He still remembers Drusus. And so do you.”
“I suppose he means to come for you eventually,” I agreed. “Of course. But for now, you are a king.”
He massaged his shoulder, and looked at me unkindly. “He expects Maroboodus will be caught napping, and gods only know what he is planning elsewhere.” He gave me an evil look. “But as for you, you will leave. It is time.”
“When?”
He tossed me a scroll, and I grasped it from the air. It was the one given to me by Tiberius when I began watching Postumus. He had had it stolen from my hall.
He nodded to it. “Soon. This scroll? Very useful. Freedom to be allowed to travel freely through the Roman lands. His man, so to speak, on his business. His very own speculatore. Names your men as well. And I asked around. None are looking for you. The war will go on for a while,” he told me. “It won’t last forever, but they are already thinking of a surrender.” He was nodding. “I heard Tiberius sent one Varus to the North. A man, I hear, who is inept and foolishly proud, and he is now governing the North. Oh, he is undoing everything Saturninus and Tiberius himself did. The man metes out punishments, allows theft, and makes up imaginary taxes. Varus is doing it all wrong. They hate him up north. Segestes is holding the land for him, but it is getting harder. The rights of men are trampled under Roman law. To kill a rival, all you need to do is to bribe Varus, and you are clear. No wergild, no tradition, no honor needed.” He gave me a long look. “Also, I hear you know Varus, and that he trusts you.”
I rubbed my eyes. “Get to the point.”
“I will,” he said. “Armin, you, Varus. Those are the ingredients of a proper war. Armin is up north now. Boiling for trouble he is. A fugitive. You will go, and help him. And while doing so, you will be my eyes and ears.”
I rubbed my neck. “And if I don’t?”
He shrugged. “As I said, Gunhild is giving me a child. A man loves his grandsons, but a king loves nobody. This one might be a boy, see? Then what of Gervas?”
I spat. “Ah, now I know you. That is the Maroboodus I know.”
He ignored my anger. “A new war is needed. I need one. A long war, even. Armin, Sigimer; both are riling up the Cherusci and their former allies. Every year, the governor marches through the Cherusci lands all the way to the rivers of the Semnones and then back to the river where Segestes holds the land under his fat thumb. They stay there in a summer camp. Come fall, they march back to the Rhenus. You will go and help Armin give Rome a new war. A war that they will remember. Isn’t it ironic, Hraban, that you will serve me like I did Livia? A new war is needed. I want Rome to forget about me, for long years to come, as I prepare.”
I said nothing.
He gave me a quick look, and then he looked tired. “I do not enjoy making threats, Hraban. Gernot and you, both, were unfortunate enemies,” he answered tiredly, musing over the past. “Unfortunate ones, as you failed to oust me. And unfortunate to me, as I lost my sons. Had I taken you to Rome with me, things would have been different. But Hulderic said ‘no’.”
I resisted looking at him, and failed. I stared at his face with a side-eye, and decided he might be telling the truth.
Had he wanted to take me with him, as he left for Rome? Perhaps.
“I came back after you were born,” he answered. “But Hulderic didn’t forgive me what I did.”
“What was it?” I asked.
“Erse,” he said. “His wife. A slave to start with, but wife later. I had
made up peace with him, but Erse … had a change of heart. And I took the chance to help her, and myself both. Mind you; Erse was in love, but not with him.” He laughed. “He never forgave me. He feared me for the prophecy. I suppose I didn’t love him either. I only wanted to be free of him, of his damned honor, his stiff-necked oaths, his choke-hold on me. I left the North, you know? And he followed.”
“The prophecy?” I asked. “I know the family died for it up there.”
“Partly,” he answered. “Some lived. Nothing can change what happened, Hraban, but I did try to fetch you and Sigilind. I failed. Thanks to Bero. And your grandfather’s pride and anger. Later?” He shrugged. “I met Livia. And Julia. And I made a decision.”
We sat silently, until I spoke. “I doubt it matters now. You are right.”
“I am. It matters little,” he answered. “I am keeping Gervas.”
Silence. We stared ahead, and I gathered my thoughts.
“That was the agreement,” I answered.
“It was,” he said simply. “So, you go and travel north, so Gervas may be happy for the rest of his life. You are with me now.”
“I do not think Gervas will be happy with you for the rest of his life,” I told him. “You are incapable of making anyone happy.”
He leaned down at me, but I didn’t flinch. “I can see why you would think so, Hraban. And I do worry you will try to come back one day, and do something truly foolish. I shall not betray your boy, if you at least try to serve me well. There is a man who told me Gervas will rule these lands one day. Don’t try to take that away from him.”
I stared at him with wonder. “What? Who said that?”
He smiled as he stroked his powerful horse. “Come, have a chat with him.”
I hesitated, mounted my horse, and followed him in silence. We rode down, and when we reached his hall, I dismounted. He gazed at the lines of men before his hall, all of whom were there to meet him at midday. He nodded me inside, and left the horse tied to a pole. I tied mine, dodged inside, and saw Maroboodus already engrossed in the business of being a king.
And then I spotted an old man working on a large door slab in the shadows of the hall, where a small fire was burning on a stone pit.
The Bane of Gods: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 5) Page 38