The Bane of Gods: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 5)

by Alaric Longward

  Wandal smiled ruefully. “It will all go to shit. We have what, twenty men?”

  “We have twenty killers,” I said. “And we won’t wait.” I watched Segestes riding over a make-shift bridge with most of his men.

  Adalwulf waved his hand. “Come, let us do it then. Whatever happens, we do our best.”

  We fetched our horses, our minds heavy with dread. Adalwulf went first, Ulrich gave me a grin, and the rest of the men followed. We clattered over the bridge, and took a road west, and asking as we went, we were pointed towards some hills amid the thick forest.

  We lost sight of Segestes.

  Adalwulf solved the issue. He found a shepherd out herding cows. Threatened with a sword, and enticed by silver, the man quickly agreed to guide us. We found a winding way through the woody fields, and that afternoon, we finally stopped. The reluctant Cherusci guide was looking at a hillock, probably trying to fathom if it was occupied, or the one he had been looking for. Behind us, far behind in the southeast, horns were braying. The Romans were marching, and they were late. They had likely crossed the river, were marching north on the bank, and would camp on the road to the west, that would leave the river some ten miles to the north. Perhaps they would press on to the night, to make up for the late start.

  In any case, Segestes would try to uncover the plot he was sure was there.

  “We are near. Series of halls to the southwest, and I think that is his,” the Cherusci guide said calmly, as he guided us, seated before Agetan. “We can see them from over the hillock.” Agetan guided his horse up an incline, and we followed suit. There, indeed, we could see the halls of Segestes. The main one was made of reddish wood, and was twice as long as any normal hall. There were many others, all with thick, rich timbers, and the stables were huge with dozens of beasts. There were halls where Segestes’s Franks slept, where servants lived, and the whole place was more like a rich village than the abode of one man. A road ran through the yard for the north, past our hillock. I barely glimpsed it through the vegetation and thick woods on the hill, but it was there. It was a wide road, well-travelled where many men might ride abreast.

  “Look,” Wandal breathed.

  Riders came to the halls from the east.

  There was a stream of them, ten, then thirty men, and Segestes was with them. The halls burst into activity, not unlike a booted anthill, and from one hall, a crippled man was dragged forth, struggling. He was pulled past his ferocious brother, for he was Sigimer, and where they took him was the blacksmithy.

  Segestes and five Franks jumped down, while the rest dispersed. The men went to the halls to eat, boys held the horses, and Segestes, not hesitating a bit, followed by the gaunt man and the Franks, dodged inside the smithy after his brother.

  “Shit bastard,” hissed Wandal. “Poor Sigimer.”

  Adalwulf smiled bitterly. “They have thirty men. And twenty more in the halls, no doubt. Sigimer’s gone. We cannot help him.”

  Wandal. “We must! Of course, we must!”

  I shifted in my saddle and nudged the Cherusci. “Will they take the road below to get to the Romans?”

  “You cannot,” Wandal said empathetically, “abandon Sigimer!”

  “We must,” I snarled. “Adalwulf is right.”

  Agetan was shaking his head. The Gold Wolf was frowning, scratching his neck, and looking at the blacksmithy that was slightly apart from the other buildings.

  The Cherusci answered. “The road does take one to the north. Yes. Likely so. But what do I know? They might go any way they wish.”

  “We shall wait here,” Adalwulf said, and I nodded.

  A pained wail echoed over the woods and hills.

  Sigimer.

  The old man had given me much. He had offered his trust, his protection, and risked his honor to allow a man known for oath breaking to live with him.

  He and Armin shared much. Power, certainly, influence.

  Soon, it would be Armin alone.

  “They will take this way,” I said, and heard the horns braying again. “They might hook through the east, the way they came in, but we shall trust Woden’s luck, for we have some avenging to do. Sigimer won’t tell them a thing for a while. Eventually, he will, of course. Gods help him, but let us hope he hangs on until the Romans have marched to the north, and men of Segestes will take this north road.”

  “Surely Segestes will, as well,” Wandal said. “Eh? He wants the honor of sharing the great news of treason with Varus.”

  “If that is so,” I said. “We will do to him what Armin will do to the legions. None must escape. We will give it all we can.”

  “All we can,” Wandal agreed.

  “Woden help us, then,” I said unhappily. “We must kill them all.”

  Agetan grunted. “I’ll kill them alone, if I must,” he said, and rode down to the road, and we stared after him, as he had never spoken before.

  ***

  That evening and night we listened to Sigimer scream.

  We were seated on our horses inside a copse of woods, holding our spears with white-knuckled rage, even the practical Thracian mercenaries. An old, legless man was being slowly burned alive, and we would do nothing about it. I saw Adalwulf and Wandal twitch with each scream, and even Ulrich seemed to be praying.

  It had been my decision not to help him, and I had my reasons. I had plenty.

  And all of them scourged my soul.

  He managed to hold on that entire night. Only very close to the morning the screaming stopped. There were yells, and men and horses were moving.

  Through the village, I saw torches flickering. In the horizon, Sunna’s light painted the sky pale gold. As if by miracle, the cornu and the tuba blared to the northeast. The Romans would be marching again, very soon.

  Below, men and horses were rushing about. Segestes, I was sure it was Segestes by the great girth of a man sitting on a horse lit by a torch, was gesturing with his hand. A corpse, tiny from so far, was dragged to the yard, and I shivered with anger, as it was drawn towards what I thought was a pigsty. Not many had these animals, but Segestes loved them, and so the filthy things would devour the most noble of the Cherusci.

  “Let him be dead,” Adalwulf said softly. “Let him be dead.”

  “Tiw, make it so,” Wandal agreed. “Here they come.”

  Indeed, some forty men were mounting, even more.

  They moved slowly.

  For us.

  The Gold Wolf shifted in his saddle. “Some will surely slip by.” He gave me a roguish smile. “I guess I won’t have to pay my men any more after this. Your brother will have to pay us a heavy bonus for this.”

  “Can you guard Cassia if I die?” I asked softly. “At least until she finds peace? Gernot will pay, indeed.”

  He squinted. “If you die, can I marry her? You are a damned fool to push her away. Even a man bought by coin knows better.”

  I glowered at him, and then he chuckled, forcing me to smile, and I begged he would keep an eye on her.

  Even a mercenary knew better, indeed.

  The enemy was riding through the woods towards us, two, three abreast. They were carrying torches, calling out to each other. The light in the sky was rapidly growing and soon, the morning in its glory would arrive, and the torches would be abandoned.

  The Gold Wolf moved his men into a line around us. The woods were wet, the morning was cold, and it and fear gave us shivers. The Cherusci guide was backing off, and I let him go. All the Thracians held wicked javelins, and the rest of us had spears. I saw the huge Segestes on his horse, in the middle of their column, and he was speaking to a young man. I saw it was again the gaunt man.

  He faintly resembled Thusnelda.

  His son? The one that had served as a Roman priest to the Cult of Augustus?

  Segimundus?

  The man looked Roman in his tunic and rich cloak, and gold-rimmed ring-mail, and seemed to be arguing with his father. A tall man, with gaunt cheeks, he made the men around him uncomforta
ble as he argued with Segestes, and then I had no more time to ponder such issues.

  “He’ll go to Hel with his father,” I said to myself, nodding. “They can pick up the argument there.”

  Woden called for me.

  He called for Adalwulf as well.

  I know not how he worked himself into the battle frenzy. Every berserker had a different way. Some drank too much. Others forced it on themselves, looking half-mad as they pranced around, whipping up the frenzy. For me, the urgency and closeness of battle brought the savagery, and it was quite natural. Death attracted it, and the savage in me loved dealing it.

  Woden.

  He danced in the shadows of my mind, and like always, I saw a glimpse of a wild man dancing with a spear, the odd twin dragon helmet gleaming dully in the shadowy woods. Old as time, the creator of men, he was no god for weaklings, and could take different guises to fool his foes. A servant, a poet, a warrior, an old man, or perhaps a crafter, he called for me to kill, or to die well.

  I looked at Adalwulf.

  Adalwulf held his long spatha over his shoulder, the wild look in his eyes a thing to scare mortals into flight. Wandal, Agetan, and Ulrich; all were ready. All the friends I had left, were ready to give Armin victory, if one was to be had.

  I didn’t wish for them to be there. But there they were.

  Because they were my friends. I should tell them the truth. Too late now.

  Adalwulf knew. Cassia as well. She had already suffered for it. Tudrus was dying. It was my fault.

  Suddenly, so very fast, the enemy thundered up the path very close.

  Adalwulf pushed me. “Give the order.”

  “Kill,” I said simply.

  The Gold Wolf sat straight in his saddle, and nodded. The javelins were lifted, and then they flashed forward. They flew past trees, rustling branches and leaves.

  Almost silently, the men and the horses on the trail were thrown into a bloody chaos. Some passed us, holding on to the wounded horses, two of which fell on their sides and rolled over with their riders, javelins on their necks and sides. Others stumbled on, and fell over the fallen, thrashing beasts and men as they crashed on top of each other. One man had a javelin in his throat, and he fell as his horse crashed into a tree. One man veered off the road, but fell with his horse to a ditch away from us.

  The Gold Wolf hissed. The Thracians lifted new javelins, and Ulrich his bow.

  Segestes and the young man were in the midst of the chaos. More javelins flashed forward.

  I prayed, and then laughed, as the fat bastard’s horse crashed over, taking the man down so heavily, mud flew high. The younger man jumped down, his side bleeding, and fell on his back, screaming with pain.

  Behind them, there was a pandemonium amongst the thirty men who were unscathed. The riders were astonished, pushing left and right to the wooded sides of the road, and into that chaos we charged. Like crows to a carcass, we flew at the Cherusci and the Franks. In a loose line, flitting though the wood, taking scratches from branches, we surged to the road. Their eyes rounded as they saw my helmet, their faces paled as they heard our cruel laughter, and as they witnessed the wicked Thracian blades coming for them, some screamed from fear. One enemy took one more javelin in his belly, and fell from the saddle. Another howled, as an arrow was stuck in his shoulder.

  We spurred directly into them, and tore into the milling party of men, hoping to kill Segestes, who was still on his back. The enemy were hovering around Segestes, some dismounted, and these men we aimed for. A Frank screamed as my spear stabbed down, pushed past his shield, and sunk into the man’s groin. He howled like an evil spirit, and letting go of the spear, I pummeled my fist into his face. Wandal stabbed his spear down as well, and another man’s face turned red, and he fell over Segestes. Agetan, howling furiously, rode past us and jumped into a heap of men pushing shields forward to guard Segestes, who was mewling in fear like a drenched kitten as men dragged him back. Agetan rammed into the shields, heaved through them, hacked his vengeful ax down on a man’s skull, then at another, and kept butchering men until more enemy on horses rode to aid Segestes, pushing us back, killing two Thracians on their mounts.

  I pulled Heartbreaker, as our men were riding to the sides to attack the flanks of the enemy, and six or more surrounded me to push for Segestes.

  “Kill the lot, gut them!” Adalwulf called out.

  “Segestes! Segestes for my ax!” Agetan roared, his ax flashing and splitting a shield, just ahead of me.

  I laughed harshly, joined Wandal and Agetan as the howling Franks and Cherusci attacked in mass, and cursed, as Segestes was pulled to the edge of the road, along with the gaunt man. There were ten more pushing shields at us, and our Thracians clashed their shields into our enemy, and we pushed forward together.

  Not Agetan.

  He growled, and went forward, his huge body moving fast as a weasel on fire. Agetan’s ax chopped down a horse’s skull, then slashed a man’s face in half, and he hopped on the heap of the dead like a fiend of goddess Hel, hollering and huge, the ax taking a leg, then a hand-sized chunk of meat from a man’s flank. A Frank slithered behind him, and he was surrounded, and we were cut off from him. We attacked, but the enemy had two ranks, and the second one pushed spears into us as we tried to break to Agetan. First one, then another Thracian fell to spears, but Adalwulf killed a champion, gutting him crudely in the mud. I hammered my sword on a shield, again, and again, breaking the arm under it, while a spear was stabbing at me, missing many times. Agetan howled ahead, and I saw a Frank with a spear in his side. The ax flashed, the Frank fell on his back, and I lost sight of Agetan, as more men pushed us.

  “Ware!” yelled The Gold Wolf. My eyes snapped to him, then I saw he was gesturing behind me.

  A bleeding man with a huge head wound was charging me from behind, hoping to impale me on his seax.

  I stabbed my sword at him, and he ran into the blade.

  Then, someone grasped me by the scruff of my neck from behind, and pulled me to the enemy shieldwall, and I fell at their feet, as they desperately pushed our line back. I was taking hits from two enemies that straddled me, and only the press of bodies saved my life. I took a strike from a cudgel, and a stab to my belt buckle. I pulled my shield over me, stabbed at a knee, and then a man crashed over me, cursing and trying to rip the shield off. I was kicked, a spear was stabbing at my side, and I felt the blade pushed into my skin through the chain. For a moment, I saw Segestes on all fours at the edge of the woods, while the gaunt man was trying to gain his feet. My sword was stamped out of my hand. I cursed, reached at the man with the spear still on my side and grasped the man by his cock and balls. A club came for my helmet, I took the hit, and pulled the howling, surprised spearman, a young Cherusci over me, and struggled Nightbright out. I stabbed it into his side. The club, and now a man with an ax attacked me furiously, striking my greaves, my shield and helmet, and the ax carved into the dying man on top of me. I saw Wandal near me, held by shields, and Agetan axing a Frank warrior in the skull, a few men away from me, a wild, mad look on his face, as he tried to get to Segestes. The Gold Wolf was howling orders, and the Frank shield wall shuddered, men fell, a terrible Thracian spear almost cut the head off one Cherusci and perhaps our men were finally winning, but I was still in trouble.

  The club man got tired of bludgeoning me, grasped my feet and pulled. The other one aimed patiently, and the ax came for my thigh.

  Adalwulf saved me.

  His sword struck down the man holding the wall just next to us. He jumped over the corpse, landed on my shield, and howled as he hopped into the midst of two men and hacked down to the man on the right. The ax man fell, arm gone, his face a mask of astonishment. The other man let go of my feet, pulled a Roman pugio and thrust at him, but Adalwulf grasped his beard, and spilt his guts. The remaining Thracians were savaging their way over the Cherusci and Frank shield-wall, and The Gold Wolf was there, amid a chaotic melee, losing his men, but not the battle. One young Thr
acian ran into spears, and fell screaming, but the rest pummeled over the enemy, in a bitter, bloody battle of pushing and tearing at shields, men guarding each other, and enemies dying and falling, one by one. The last of the Franks and the Cherusci retreated, as Adalwulf slashed his sword at them, with little skill in his exhaustion, but enough power to split a shield, and to open an arm.

  Our men paused to pant, and rest, and gather resolve. There were nine of us left. No more.

  The retreating enemy stopped running, and formed a small wall of shields before us. They stepped back, and back, some eight scared men in it, panting and tired.

  I crawled up from under the corpse, and grasped a shield, cursing. “Do you see Segestes?”

  “He crawled to the bushes,” Adalwulf said.

  “Find him!” I called at Ulrich, who was still on a horse, riding around us, his bow out, and laughing at the foe shivering behind their shields. He pulled an arrow, one of the few he had left, and let it go. It pierced a man’s thigh, dropping him to his face, but they tightened the shieldwall again. Ulrich guided his horse past us, and over the road, arrow nocked, searching for Segestes.

  Agetan was holding his large ax pointed towards the enemy. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds. “First, we finish this. Then we find Segestes.”

  I nodded, lifted Nightbright, and together, still panting, we walked forward, eyeing the enemy who were terrified and beaten.

  “Woden, Woden,” I hissed, “take them to Woden. Let him have the lot.”

  “Take them,” Adalwulf laughed, “and bury them in pig-shit.”

  “Wai—” began one of the Franks, but we had no use for waiting.

  We charged forward, the enemies’ eyes flickered over their shield rims, and spears stabbed at us tiredly. Adalwulf danced under a spear, I bashed my shield on the weapons, then stepped forward, and stabbed under the shield, and took the man in crotch. Adalwulf hammered through the line, and Agetan followed him.

  “Segestes!” he roared madly.

  Three large Cherusci stabbed spears at Agetan, a thin man got up from behind their shields, and roaring, tossed a jagged stone. Wandal tried to block it, but it struck Agetan in the face.