And in that camp, I found a beaten Heinrich. Bertilo was sitting there as well, staring at his father silently.
I found Heinrich standing over the bodies of three of his men, while ten stood around him. Ingulf was stroking his horse. Bero was sitting next to him.
Heinrich eventually got up and saw me. He walked to me, gnashing his teeth. He squinted up at me as he reached the horse.
“Well. The bitch was there, and she attacked. That was Tamura, and her pretty daughters, and brothers,” he said uncomfortably. “Sarmatians. I have no idea if it was bad luck, or perhaps they were hoping to kill me before tomorrow, but we survived. I managed only barely to lead some of us out. Bad luck, or not, here we are. Maino and your father?” he asked. “Let me know this was at least accomplished.”
I shook my head. “They took Maino. Not sure about Father.”
He looked sour, like he had just chewed on a handful of ants. “Shit. Damn it. They took the woman, Erse as well. This was costly.” He looked at me. “Does this change our plans?”
I shook my head. I looked at Bero. “No. It might make it better. He will help us.”
He looked at Bero as well. “He is a snake.”
“He is,” I said. “I know.”
He smiled. “I see. I agree.” He stepped closer to the man. “Bero?”
Bero shifted his eyes to us. “Maino?” he asked.
I rode for him. “Maino is as good as dead. He is, unless you aid us. We have a plan. I will get close to Akkas. There, we shall find the truth to Akkas and his Romans. I need a clever man to help me. Do this, and I grant Maino his chance to fight me. Do not, and we both lose him. The Sarmatians took him a slave, and gods know where he will be sold to. You will never see him again. You will spy for me, Uncle. You will keep an eye on the Sarmatians while I seek answers for the relationship of the Romans and this Akkas from the vitka. You will be my trusted eyes. Do it, and your boy might beat me one day.”
He looked at me with hope. Then, his eyes gleamed, and he bowed. “I agree.”
BOOK 2: THE SACRAFICE
“I am Maroboodus, a Goth, a son of the first people, and I demand my ring, that of Woden’s own blessed treasure, and my treasure. I want all that was stolen be returned. I want compensation for the man they killed. Aye, I want a wergild.”
Maroboodus to the Thing
CHAPTER 5
We took well-hidden paths out of the river for the southeast. There were now thirty men riding around Heinrich, who had a serious, haunted look on his face. There were a hundred men around the woods, all of whom were scouting dutifully, and the few corpses he had been able to recover were draped over the horses behind us. They were a constant reminder of a need to be alert. We rode, dodged branches, and kept quiet.
Save for Ingulf, who was riding immediately behind me. He wasn’t quiet.
“Damned mad plan this, Maroboodus,” he said. He had said it many times. He finally added, “You must be crazy. You’ve been hit in the head far too often.”
“You are following along, aren’t you?” I asked him. “You might want to consider your own skull for fractures. It looks misshapen as it is.”
He rode next to me, his face red. “You think he is the man who shall give us a hall and a future? Do you really?”
We watched Heinrich and saw Bertilo near him, speaking. Heinrich was shaking his head. His best men were very close to him.
“He was rattled,” Ingulf said. “He is rattled to the very bone-marrow. You think he will see this through? I am not so sure. And he is not telling us everything. I’d like to know why Rome hates him.”
“And that’s exactly what we shall be doing, isn’t it?” I said. “When we find out what Akkas and Rome are doing, and as I told you…” I shrugged. “There is another plan.”
“Yes, you told me.” He gnashed his teeth together. “It is mad. All the plans are mad. It can go wrong.”
“Yes. Plans can go wrong. You might plan to go hunting one day, and you instead find yourself in a feast, hopelessly drunk. Plans go wrong.”
“But you are lucky,” he laughed softly. “You’ll perform a grand deceit inside a deceit, and gods know if you can make it out alive.”
I nodded. “Lok knows.”
We both watched Bero. He was riding unbound, his hands free, his head high, and seemed to enjoy the change in his fortunes. He was almost, if not quite, smiling.
I smiled. “He’ll make it better. It will be well.”
He looked unconvinced. “And if they killed Erse and Maino?” he asked. “If you never find Maino’s body? Will you have peace?”
I didn’t answer. I needed to see his corpse. It would have to wait.
“And your father?” he asked.
“Later,” I said. “First, we deal with this.”
Ingulf was cursing softly. “They might have killed both the woman and Maino.”
“Maino’s a proper slave,” I said loudly, and to my satisfaction, saw Bero twitching before us. “Big, beefy, stupid. Like a draft horse. Erse is useful. They especially wanted to capture women. I heard this Tamura. They’ll sell them on or they might even keep them, but we must deal with our oaths. And if we get close to this Akkas, and his Hermanduri and Sarmatian chiefs, and that vitka—”
“To get close to a vitka,” Ingulf said stiffly, “you risk killing him. You risk upsetting him. Nobody threatens or kills a vitka or a völva. You are risking your neck and drawing the wrath of the gods—”
Bero spoke, intercepting him. “We must take some risks. I agree, but the vitka is the key. He is right. Perhaps he can be bought?”
I smiled. “You are good at that, are you not?”
Bero frowned. “There are many vitka, but the main one is called the Stick-Wolf. He’s been there for decades, on and off. Bertilo told me.”
“He did?” I asked, stupefied. “You are busy. And he seems to speak to none.”
“He did to me. I am spying for you and for us,” he answered stiffly. “I will want to give Maino a chance. I want to find him. I know what you are thinking. He might be dead. He is not. I will try to speak with the Sarmatians and find out something we can use, and I will seek out information on the vitka, but first, we must survive the day.” He looked at the Red Raven. “He must be able to play his part. He takes a risk. We all do.”
Ingulf spat. “Risks? Aye. We take risks. You both take risks to save Maino, or to kill him. And why do I take a risk? My own hall at the end of a war? Service? I gave him an oath, but the risk we are taking…”
I grinned. “Hall and a woman. Say, how about you save Erse. She is a pretty one. Might make you a good wife. Little Ingulf brood running around the yard, beating each other with wooden swords. I’d like to see that.”
He sputtered and growled. “I’ll take the hall, if there is one to be had. I’m married to my ax and take my sword as a lover, and if I must marry a woman, let it be someone far less perilous than the wife of Hulderic.”
“We don’t know he is married to her,” I said with glee. “He did seem very concerned over Bero’s wife.”
Bero stiffened and didn’t look back. He had no more opinions to share. He was simply enjoying a momentary freedom from the ropes and preparing for his part.
Ingulf also went quiet. He rode off to the side, and I rode behind the milling mass of bodyguards.
I was staring at the south, where we were allowed occasional glimpses at the great ranges of mountains that jutted above thickly wooded hills. Clouds were racing on top of them, and some touched the peaks. I was thinking about the words of Ingulf and knew they were right. We were taking a great risk. We might be left with nothing, not even our lives. And I, too, was unsure if Heinrich would be a good man to serve.
We’d keep our oaths, and we’d tell him goodbye, if things didn’t work out. A man had his rights, but I’d do my best to serve him.
As if reading my thoughts, he turned and watched me. He waited a bit, and his men were suddenly around me. All had a hand near
a weapon. He rode close. He saw my eyes on the mountains.
Heinrich grunted. “Never seen the like before?”
“I haven’t, though on the journey, there were some solitary ones. Mountains, that is. They are quite a sight.”
He agreed with a smile. “We have lived here for a long time and pray to the gods and the spirits of the earth, the vaettir and the dead of the woods, the spirits of the watery depths, and the riders pray to gods of fire and a sword, but some of us pray to the mountains. The land and the cows with the crops are the roots of wealth. The forest with its game as well. These are things all men seek to possess, but you cannot own the mountains. They look down on us with amusement. They say you can climb on top and die happy. Some do. Few come back, and many are missing toes and fingers.”
“I know the sea,” I told him. “It is cruel, and you cannot own it. If you try, you fail. The waves are harsh and brutal. But nothing like those things.”
He was nodding as Ingulf rode after me, very close, but the guards kept him away.
I gave them a quick look. “You are making sure you survive the day?”
He nodded. “I am making sure I survive. I’ve been hunted before, but not like yesterday. It was sloppy of me. I trust you. I haven’t even thought about the fact that you led me there, to danger.” He smiled and I frowned. “Nay. Truly, I trust you. Not with my life, but I do. We have a pact, and your plan is the best one we have. The twisted plan can only come from the lips of a god.” He looked at Ingulf and then at me. “Your friend is much more than an ugly face and a swift sword, isn’t he? A friend, through and through. A rare thing. The sea, eh? I’ve never seen such. We have lakes, but no seas.”
“We’ve rowed the one in the north,” I answered. “It was cold, beautiful, and seemed uncaring of the lives it took. We fought in boats, once.”
He smiled. “Shit. In armor? Aye?” He shuddered. “I will see it one day, the sea. You two haven’t seen much more of the land than the river, eh?”
“We traveled down the river,” I bristled. “We probably saw a lot more than most have. But we haven’t gone this far inland, except in the lands of the Cherusci, where we had…some men to kill.”
He smiled. “You are lucky you didn’t ride west to the lands of the Chatti. They live not far from here. Their men are harder to kill than the Cherusci, and they had a bad harvest last year. They are restless, and war-parties hire out to even their enemies.” He spat and shook his head, as he watched Bertilo. “Fool boy, isn’t he? Barely opens his mouth. Well. No Chatti for you. Instead, you get to meddle in the affairs of the Hermanduri. It’s going to be bloody and messy, and I didn’t mean to demean you. You haven’t seen much, but you know war. I’ve traveled the mountains and plains of Dacia, and over the great river of the south, and I have seen the land of the Boii. I have been restless since I was a child. You need to learn to row the currents of this sea as well. You hope to join me for the Quadi war?”
I nodded.
“We are going to go to war like the Chatti and the Romans do,” he said. “We’ll not come back soon. We’ll take the Hermanduri far, far to the west, if we are lucky. Akkas and I agree on that much. So, you will see a war unlike you have never seen. We’ll not leave anything standing, and nothing is going to be the same. We must show we cannot be humiliated, as the Quadi did. There are new tribes beyond us and many Hermanduri coming from the north, seeking land. They must come to join us and not to take what is ours. You’ll see things most Germani would not see.”
I nodded. They would purge the land and sell off all the survivors. They’d sacrifice the prisoners, and they’d leave their bones to the crows.
“We have seen a lot,” I murmured.
He nodded. “Are you ready?”
“I am,” I said uncertainly. “Sort of. We go first, and you gather your men.”
“They are not far,” he said. “I don’t like to stay in one place, but my men are there. I will explain to them what they must do. You go first, aye. They’ll be waiting for me.”
“How will we find it?” I asked.
He nodded ahead of us. “Cannot miss Wolf Fields. The Wolf Hall is in the southern end of it, near the woods. They’ll be gathered there like a pack of vermin over a corpse, my hall being the corpse. You see the woods stretching to south and west behind it. On the mountains, you’ll see rivers gushing down. The Wolf Hall will be near where the great rivers of the land are born. There, the gods spew mighty streams from the bowels of the Nine Worlds, and there, too, you shall go.”
“Make it good,” I said.
He shrugged. “I like not your plan. I know it beats battle today, but still, I like it not. I suppose I can bend over if the cock is clean and won’t do permanent damage.”
Bertilo looked disgusted, and Heinrich chuckled.
“He is a delicate flower, my son,” he told me. “I must get him married.”
“Does he smile?” I asked.
“Only rarely,” he told me. “He doesn’t speak to me, either, after last night.”
Ingulf grunted as he was listening. I was sure he didn’t like the Red Raven too much. “What are we to expect when we get there? There are other tribes in this land than the Hermanduri and the Sarmatians?”
Heinrich nodded. He waved his hand around. “Aye. Hermanduri are not pure. We are bastards in every way. Sure, we have many Germani tribes mixed in with ours. In the north, we draw men heavily from the Burgundii. Up north, riders have pushed to our lands from the east, and Semnones occasionally help them raid out herds and lands, but Semnones, too, join us. Chatti, as well. Here, around the Iron Mountains,” he said and pointed at the ranges of great heights, “Silingi, Sidones, Marsingi live and often aid us in our pursuits and marry into our tribes. But many are Gauls. Boii, others, Dacians, Thracians, Illyrians. Bastards, as you see, but bastards shall keep the land.
“What are the Sarmatians?” Ingulf asked. “We have no idea. You say they seek for sacrifices? They hunt heads? We should understand them, before the fool makes his move.”
I nodded. The face of the dead girl came to my mind, and I shivered at the thought of what that would mean when I had to face that mother.
“As said,” Heinrich said softly as he looked at the bodies on horses, “they come from the east. East and ever further east, you see men on horses. If you travel that way, skirt Dacia, and come out of the woods and look over the plains, you understand why we fear them and little else. There are lots of horse people who ride across that wide land, and some say you might ride for weeks and months and still see such plains stretching on, and on, filled with people like them. They say the wide lands end after a hundred rivers have been crossed and many seas passed, but other say beyond that, there are even more plains and people who do not look like we do.” He looked thoughtful. “There is a silence in that plain, a wind that whispers of ancient grudges, and if that wind whispers stories of our riches to the riders of the west, to the tribes that are busy killing each other but might want to kill weaker men for a change, then those tribes will one day come this way. All they need is a great king, some terrifying madman, or someone basking in favor of their gods, and we are all soon bending over, and that cock won’t be gentle.”
Ingulf shook his head, and I was smiling. If we stayed, that would one day be our war.
He went on. “While we don’t see any great number of people rushing to take our lands currently, we do get an occasional tribe. Roxolani, Igyazes, and some other nomads, like Scythians, ride hither. Hermanduri take in anyone. Akkas’s mother was a Iazyges tribe member. They inhabit the lands north and west of Dacia. So are these hundred riders that came to serve him. Tamura is their queen, her daughters and two brothers lead the others. Terrifying in battle. They are exiles, I think.”
He looked at me with a grim smile. “If you are worried for this Erse, you should be. She's a slave, but whether they plan on selling her to the Romans or keeping her, she will be quickly lost if you do not find her.” He frowned. “Must
not tarry one moment, eh? Let us hope our plans work. I shall see you in Helheim, if it doesn’t.” He looked at Ingulf, who spurred forward, and gave his guard a rein of our pack-horse. On its back jingled a few pouches we had taken from Bero, and the Cherusci, and there, too, was my ring.
I flexed my empty hand and frowned as the horse was pulled along.
The Red Raven spurred his horse after the pack-animal and pulled off to lead, taking his guards with him. We rode on, up and down shaded, tree-infested valleys, until we came to the hills before the mountains, and there, a vast river churned its way for the north and through a huge, flower-filled valley. The valley was dotted with villages and herds of cows and horses. There were no fields of barley or wheat, just the flowery field that stretched across the horizon.
Bero was looking at it with wonder as the red-shields milled around us. I turned to look at the Red Raven, who pointed a finger to the south.
I saw the mountains, the waterfalls on the slopes, the heavy woods, and then, the edge of the woods. Villages again could be seen, but this time, also drab tents and a sea of men sitting around fires. It was midday, and many were moving for a long, gray hall, before which a contest of riders was being held. A horde of people was sitting in a semi-circle, watching them.
“That’s the place,” Ingulf murmured.
“They are not ten thousand,” Bero said.
I shook my head. “They are the chiefs and the men who follow Akkas. Four to five thousand, eh? Red Raven is going to bring his. Some three? The rest follow who leads and will not have more than their war-chiefs attending. They will join when the war starts, but won’t want a part in this battle for leadership.”
In the valley, some massive herds of horses were milling, and men were herding them. Some turned to look at us.
I took a deep breath and rode forward. We trekked the valley and hailed riders and men herding animals. They stopped to look at our armor, our war-filthy gear, and brooding faces. They wondered at our dour faces. I kept looking to the south of the valley and spotted some color amidst the standing men.
The Wolf Page 6