“What is the little whore’s price then?” he snarled. “A kingdom? A crown?”
Flavus shrugged. “Livilla will marry Drusus the Younger for it. So yes, Rome is her price. Drusus the Younger has much more ambition than Gaius. It breaks my heart, Wandal, that Gaius actually wanted to rule only long enough to give Rome back to its people. Tiberius had gone too far to let him survive.”
“You said Sejanus?” he asked, voice empty of hope. “Where is the shit?”
“Sejanus is back in Rome,” Flavus said.
“Everyone knows he—”
“Publius never wrote any report of Sejanus,” I told him. “Augustus never found out. Publius wrote all the missives to Rome, see? Lollius was dead. Sejanus is clean, a hero even. He is watching Germanicus, Livia, and Augustus now, and will soon be elevated by Tiberius.”
He held his face. “You silenced the Parthian on the walls.”
“I did. He managed to mention Sejanus, though, but—”
“You shit,” he said, his face that of a roaring lion. “You filth! What of Germanicus? Did you betray Antonia as well as your oath to Gaius?”
“Yes, I betrayed Antonia,” I said, tears in my eyes. “I lied to her. I used her to soften Tiberius, but the only thing I really needed from her, was a letter from Vipsania. I needed to remind Tiberius of the love of his life. It was needed. There was only one thing to make Tiberius take the step, and to grasp for power, even over the bodies of Gaius and Lucius. I offered him the one thing he truly desires. See, besides his son’s safety, I suggested that as the new Augustus, he could remarry his true love.”
Flavus smiled. “That was deviously clever of you, Hraban. It has changed history.”
I felt no pride for the fact. I only saw the dead face of Gaius in my dreams. And now, Cassia’s.
Wandal looked at me like he would stare at a dangerous animal.
“Aren’t you clever,” he said. “Germanicus yet lives.”
“And perhaps he has a use,” I whispered. “It won’t last. He too, must fall in a war, far from home,” I said with hate. I hated the man. I did.
He rode around us, thinking, and Flavus was growing bored. He watched men in the harbor, worried.
“Speak on,” he told me. “Explain the war of Tiberius against your father. Just to keep him in power? Wait, what of the deed against the brother of Pinnes?”
Flavus laughed. “Wandal, for a man who has killed many innocents, you do have nerve to look down at us. You were part of many deaths that were undeserved.”
“I would have liked to know the truth,” he said darkly, “so I could have made a decision not based on lies. Explain the fate of Postumus.”
“As I said, there was never war with Maroboodus,” I said. “Never. Father wanted two things. He wanted Postumus. And yet, Postumus is of high Roman blood, but also of the Marcomanni. Of course, Postumus had to leave Rome, but he could never be sent to Maroboodus either. I made a bet, and suggested to Tiberius that Father understood this. Postumus had to die. Always did. And Father? What would make Father happy?”
“His land?”
I nodded. “Yes. Father always wanted his kingdom. Like the Parthians when it comes to the fate of Armenia, Father will be an ally of Tiberius forever, though it cost him Postumus. He could make himself a king of the amber-land, and Livia did aid him, but he needed Tiberius to give him the land for good. They are allies, and like I abandoned my oaths to avenge Drusus, Tiberius will not honor his oath to avenge Drusus either. My father is worried he will still be betrayed, but that is the lot of men like him.” I smiled wistfully. “And men like me, as well.”
Flavus laughed softly. “Postumus, Wandal, had to be either killed, or disgraced. Tiberius had Germanicus capture him, for Germanicus hated Postumus, and feared him. This way, Germanicus is elevated faster, and he shall soon lead armies, and perhaps he shall die as well, by a foreign hand paid by Roman coin. Germanicus will find his fate here, trying to win this war.”
He rode around us, cursing and holding his face. “Postumus will die, no? I liked him. So did you.”
“Yes,” I said simply. “They will all die, and I will like them in Woden’s Hall. Even Germanicus, as Flavus said, must die. Tiberius needed wars after his release. That’s why we made Illyricum a war zone, Wandal. It was all Tiberius, of course, and Flavus, who devised that plan.”
“Hundreds of thousands of dead, Hraban,” he whispered with horror.
I spat and looked away. “I know. It was needed. And since Augustus lives, he still needs war. He needs it to stay in power, and in command of the legions. He needs Augustus to rely on him to keep Rome standing. It was Flavus and I who were supposed to raise the Cherusci against Rome after Illyricum. It was he and I, and Adalwulf, who were supposed to fight here with Sigimer’s men, until Germanicus comes North, because he will. Tiberius will see to it. And we are going to kill him, here, where his father died. None can blame Tiberius for that. But then along came Armin, and he survived the sea, and he and Flavus found trust again, brotherhood, and Tiberius, when he released them, decided he was the more skillful, more formidable lord, and had a better chance to beat Rome here. So, we fooled him.”
Flavus smiled. “Probably a good decision. Look at what he accomplished. I would have struggled.”
Wandal gave him a cold-eyed look, and I braced for death. “Tell me Hraban, the day poor Postumus was taken, and you decided to ride to your father. Why was he there at all? After all, you were expected to escape with Armin, and to get Cassia back later, no?”
“He was there to catch a glimpse of Postumus, whom he had never seen.” I shook my head. “He tried to make me his puppet, but I made him mine. I suppose I should have left my family there, after all. I should have visited them, as we had agreed, until Tiberius was fully in power, but I changed the deal, risked it, risked Tiberius and Maroboodus and their peace, and the future I had planned for, and now? I must finish this for Gervas.”
“Gods punished you for your evil deeds, Hraban,” Wandal said. “They punished you for joining men like him,” he said and nodded at Flavus, “and not for trying to rescue your family.”
Flavus pointed his sword at me. “Hraban is a man like us, Wandal. He just tried very hard not to be.”
Wandal spat and nodded. “Perhaps it is so.”
We sat there, staring at each other. The sounds of the Germani were drowned out by shrieks of some ravens, and Wandal stirred as they flew past.
“You shall help Rome conquer Germania as well?” he asked. “Or will you just kill Germanicus?”
Flavus was shaking his head nervously.
“If,” I said evenly, “Tiberius wishes it, we shall help Rome take Germania. After Germanicus is finally dead here in the North, I might help Rome, before I take Gervas back South to Rome to the peace that was promised. I, and Adalwulf, we shall do anything to find the Roman peace that was promised us so long ago, and the safety we need. Only Rome can truly give us that. We just had to help make the Rome we like best. Tiberius will—”
“You would betray Armin?” he roared. “And all these people? Our people. After all they accomplished?”
I looked away. “I said yes. If Tiberius asks for it, I will. For Gervas. After Cassia’s death, none of it matters, but Gervas. For a while, I regretted all the lies that got Agetan killed, and the lies to fool you. I regretted taking Cassia for granted, and using her to further my plans, and never asking her for hers. Now the price is too steep to stop. Tiberius owes us. He is a man to pay back his debts. He promised me a safe haven, and peace for life, and to make Gervas into a senator.” I stared at Wandal, and spoke to Flavus. “Tell Ulrich, that I shall kill him slowly.”
“He will be gone, after he has been paid,” he answered. “He can settle anywhere. He will go to Gaul, or Africa. He might find a valley right here, and you would never hear of it. You will never—”
“I will find him,” I said simply. “Gernot will. We shall, together. And tell Tiberius, I shall serve hi
m still, for Gervas. Tell him I shall kill Germanicus, or help Armin do so in battle. And if my father tries to reach out and pay me back for my perfidy, tell him that I shall ram my sword into his guts as well.”
Flavus nodded and turned his horse, and rode away slowly. He looked behind, worried, as Wandal stared at me.
Wandal spoke. “You make boasts still, and oaths to the Romans. And yet, you don’t convince.”
I smiled. “You know me well. No. I don’t feel any of it. I will try, but I am tired. You can still stop all the evil that will come this way,” I told him, and begged for Woden’s Hall.
He put the blade on my throat. His hand shook, as he stared at my eyes, as if trying to find a human there. “That’s what you want. This is what you hope for. You beg for someone to take your miserable life, and to release you. You hope for someone to send you to Woden, and undo all your future evil. A friend will do nicely? No.”
He struck me in the face with the hilt of his sword. I fell from the saddle, and turned to see him turning his horse. I saw him riding away to the harbor. I sobbed, got to my elbows and struggled to my feet. “Where are you going?”
He didn’t look back. “Away, Hraban, finally. I’ll find my father, if he yet lives. And then, I shall ponder on the value of honor, of oaths, and I’ll find myself a hall I can smile in again. I shall never ride with you again. And perhaps, after much pondering, I shall ride against you. I wonder how Armin will feel about you and Adalwulf, if I tell them Cassia and your family were with your father? He might enjoy the whole story, no? He might even survive you. I will think about it.”
“Wandal!” I screamed. “I am sorry!”
He laughed. “You were always a rotten boy, and now you are a rotten man. Ansigar, Ansbor, Fulcher, Bohscyld, Brimwulf, Ishild, and Agetan. So many others. And Cassia! It is your curse, isn’t it? You draw good men and women to you like a flame does moths, and they all burn. Take Gervas back to your father, so he might be saved.” He stopped his horse and watched me. “At least you finally understood Cassia, before she was gone. That is something, isn’t it? You tell Tudrus the truth,” he called out, “and I wish you good fortune, Hraban, for a man so cursed shall need all he can find, or steal. You abandoned the only men who could have helped you see the right path, didn’t you? Friends for curs, Hraban, and now you reap the harvest. You know, Hraban, I think your father is a better man than you are.”
He rode away, and I didn’t see him for a long, long time.
Tudrus survived, and left after the winter, after I had told him the truth as well.
That coming spring, I, a warlord of Armin, waited for Tiberius, and ultimately, for Germanicus to arrive. I had men to kill, and the dead to mourn, and my son would be a senator in Rome, as promised by Tiberius.
I would be alone, despised by all, even by myself.
And I had deserved it.
ALBION (A.D. 42)
In no way, does the story smear the glory your father reaped before Bone Hill. In no way, does it diminish his achievements, and the struggles of the great wars that followed. His tenacious fight against Rome and Maroboodus went on, and that Germania survived was all due to his glory and skill. He was the light in the dark for all the nations of the North, and his death, when it finally came a long decade later, only encouraged others to take up the swords and spears. Eastern tribes moved west, buoyed by his example. Riches of the West made them restless, Armin’s successes made the Germani bold, and kings became commonplace, making Germani strong in war, no longer as divided as they had once been.
I abandoned friends for criminals, and honor for safety, and found none of it for long years. I lied, for I was afraid. I lied, because I didn’t understand true friendship. Later, much later when I finally gained the position under Tiberius that I sought, when Livia had died, and I had finally killed both Ulrich and Germanicus, I still found no peace, nor safety.
Wandal was right. I was worse than my father.
He never had any friends to betray. He never made promises to a wife, not that I know of. Nothing more was expected of him than what he offered. I should have done my friends the honor of telling them the truth. I was supposed to be the better man, after all. Perhaps, just perhaps, they would have changed my mind. As for Cassia, I should have given her happiness, I should have listened to her wishes, and attended her needs, and I wasted years of life by trying to build her my vision of perfection, instead of accepting hers.
I wasn’t willing to let go of Rome. I thought I knew best.
You must make such decisions, Thumelicus, soon. Though dying for a lost cause is foolish, perhaps dying with no honor is even more so. Fulcher had tried to teach that to me once, and for a time, I had remembered it. After Rome, I forgot, like Father had. Perhaps dying young is better than as an old fool. I shall stop you from killing yourself, Thumelicus, but do keep your honor. And cherish your friends. Listen to them, when you are lost.
Now, we must be on our way again. Days have passed, we have seen Romans, we have seen local fighters and some battle, and yet, we might escape still.
If we do not fall, I shall tell you what followed, lord, and how things turned out. I will tell you how your father died, after a long struggle with his allies and Rome both, and I can tell you I had nothing to do with it, for I betrayed Tiberius for a new cause. I shall tell you of that, of Gulla the Chatti, the wife and a friend who foresaw me. I will tell you how, hemmed in by Maroboodus and Rome both, Adalwulf and I saved Armin, and I shall tell you of all the terrible campaigns Armin endured to save us all. And I shall tell you of Germanicus, who, while a hateful, cruel bastard, turned out to be as dangerous as his father had ever been. I will tell you of your mother Thusnelda, who was captured while pregnant with you.
Her captor was her father, for Segestes had survived.
And what he did, nearly pushed Germania to its grave-mound.
-The Summer Sword shall be available in the first quarter of 2018 –
Check out the rest of our many savage series at:
https://www.amazon.com/Alaric-Longward/e/B00LX654J2/
AFTERWORD
This dark tale is yet again mostly fiction. It is most all speculation. No story is more puzzling than the death of Gaius and Lucius, and the eventual demise of Germanicus of poison. The brood of Augustus, wiped off the face of Rome, has raised questions for over two thousand years. The great Illyrian rebellion, the disaster of Varus, the strange wars of Maroboodus with Armin, and the fake one with Tiberius, and Livia’s character all add flavor to the last years of Augustus, but Hraban must be in the middle of it.
The longer span of years in this story, compared to less than one year in the first book, poses some character growth challenges. Great events pass without a mention, and many key historical people never get so much as a single mention. The many allies of Tiberius, Augustus, and Livia are squeezed into but a few. As a writer, one must keep a firm grip of the story itself, and not meander off like a calf on a summer pasture. I hope purists can forgive some of these omissions in the story, and perhaps even the lack of attention on Augustus himself. Even some of the events and years they took place in are a bit off, or inaccurate.
Having said that, I do hope the story itself works for you. It was high time Hraban stopped reacting, and began acting, though, naturally, a price must be paid for the betrayal of his friends, and of abandoning his honor, and oaths. He hoped to spare his friends further losses, and to build his loved ones a life filled with safety, but of course Hraban, in the end, discovers that the life he had hated, the constant fear, and the risks, were simply part of life he should have cherished, and braved. Seeking the better thing often leads to a pasture that is no greener than the one you left behind.
I do also apologize for the major death in the book. It had to be done. Gulla needs room.
I also hope I did some justice to Armin’s great feat, the fall of Varus and his legions, and I also hope the real nature of Hraban’s plan with Tiberius didn’t leak out before the
end. There are hints, there are warnings, but I did my best to keep it all mostly hidden.
Onwards to the next book, the Summer Sword, and the great struggle of the North against the young Germanicus, who turns out to be a wily, cruel general.
OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR
THE HRABAN CHRONICLES – NOVELS OF ROME AND GERMANIA
THE OATH BREAKER – BOOK 1
RAVEN’S WYRD – BOOK 2
THE WINTER SWORD – BOOK 3
THE SERPENT CATCHER – BOOK 4
BANE OF GODS – BOOK 5
GOTH CHRONICLES - NOVELS OF THE NORTH
MAROBOODUS - BOOK 1
THE BEAR BANNER – BOOK 2
THE CALL OF THE WOLF – BOOK 3 (COMING 2018)
THE CANTINIÉRE TALES – STORIES OF FRENCH REVOLUTION AND NAPOLEONIC WARS
JEANETTE’S SWORD – BOOK 1
JEANETTE’S LOVE – BOOK 2
JEANETTE’S CHOICE – BOOK 3 (COMING 2018)
TEN TEARS CHRONICLES – STORIES OF THE NINE WORLDS
THE DARK LEVY – BOOK 1
EYE OF HEL – BOOK 2
THRONE OF SCARS – BOOK 3
HORN’S FATE – BOOK 4 (COMING 2017)
THIEF OF MIDGARD – STORIES OF THE NINE WORLDS
THE BEAST OF THE NORTH – BOOK 1
QUEEN OF THE DRAUGR – BOOK 2
SONS OF YMIR – BOOK 3 (COMING 2017)
THE CURSED BLOOD TALES – STORIES OF THE NINE WORLDS
THE HORN KING
* * *
[KS1]For what I had planned for her?
The Bane of Gods: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 5) Page 53