I put my hand over his mouth again.
I turned him to look at the guard, and he saw Ingulf, a monster with a sword, and then, a throat being slashed.
He meowed with fear.
“Do you, Marcus,” I asked him, “wish to offend me by not answering my questions?”
Ingulf let go of the guard, and he crashed down on his back. Ingulf placed a leg on the man’s face.
Marcus was swallowing hard and nodded. He then shook his head and tried to speak. I sighed and placed the flask in his hand. He closed his eyes, smiled gratefully, and took a long swig. His eyes seemed to focus, and he shivered.
“I didn’t hear any questions,” he said softly.
I placed the Roman sword on his throat. “So, Marcus, you seem unhappy. You seem to be a drunk and unhappy bastard, no? You are not going to make a scene?”
He shook his head.
“You understand me?”
He nodded and sounded like his pride had been pricked. “Yes. And a dozen other languages. I am well trained. I am trained to serve the high and the mighty, but they have me working with the slaves, and I cannot abide it. I am a freedman, you see, and—”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“It means I was a slave when I was a child, and my master set me free,” he said unhappily. “And now I watch men dying from hopelessness and mistreatment, and I must mark them down like heads of cattle. I’d rather work with the prefect, but Antius the… Well, he won’t let me…”
“Antius—”
“The Fat,” he crumbled. “Aye, I hate him. Will you kill me?”
“I will kill you,” I said, “unless you find a tune together. Nothing like you were just singing out there, but a tune that will make me happy.”
He snorted and smiled tiredly. “I cannot sing. I admit that, but I can recite poems.”
I nodded. “Good. Fine. What did you tell me to do?” I asked him. “You spoke to me.”
He smiled. “I told you I think you are pretty.”
I slapped him.
“To go away. To fuck a dog. In that order.”
Ingulf laughed.
I smiled. “Here is the thing, Marcus. Romans, your kind, have been buying men for Akkas. Akkas was made the Thiuda by their help. They have hundreds of trained men here, and all Antius keeps telling me is how they want to have a famous king that is grateful for them. That it is about trade, and trade alone. And that Red Raven is a thief. I think there is more to it.”
He shrugged. “It is about trade. The amber road.”
“The amber road?” Ingulf asked.
“Antius mentioned it,” I said. “You had best go deeper.”
He smiled. “Aye, the Amber Road. It runs from the north to the south. There are Semnones and their trade kings who deal it forward. It comes south, through the rivers for the Boii, and then to Rome.”
“They say it dried up, with Heinrich stealing too much,” I said.
He nodded. He rummaged around in his pockets and handed me a piece of golden colored stone. It shone like fire in the light of Mani, and it had been framed in silver. It was beautiful as…
“Tears of Freya,” Ingulf said. “I have seen it. It comes from the north.”
He was nodding like a fool. “Ever since the king Baru…”
“Badurad,” I aided him.
“That one, aye. I cannot pronounce his name. When he died, and his sons were scattered and killed by the Red Raven’s father, the road to south has been uncertain. The Semnone trade kings have found new ways to get it south, and much of it has flowed to west, to the Quadi chief they call Cynefirth. He married a woman of the Semnones, and they actually took a good city for trading with Semnones in the north. They are a steady source, but Rome must pay much more for it. He and his sons have been sharing the wealth with the Marcomanni. They have been asking for much more than the Boii, but they don’t steal from Rome.” He shook his head. “That has influenced the Boii. The Boii rely on that wealth to buy men for protection against Dacia, see? We need them for the trade and alliances and influence. We need that flow back in place. It is a terrific amount of gold we are losing.” He shrugged. “That’s why we want the Quadi crushed. We want that king dead. We want his town razed. We need to make the Semnones look our way again, here, where we make the rules.”
“And so, you are bringing in troops to aid him in his war,” I said. “You tried to have Red Raven pushed over the edge of reason and have him killed. You simply bought his men.”
He nodded, his eyes flashing. “You two made it impossible, eh? You have devised some fancy plan to kill Akkas instead?” He laughed ironically.
“Aye,” I said. “We have. You don’t seem too concerned.”
He opened his mouth and closed it. Then, he drank some more.
I placed the sword on his chest, and he flinched. I spoke softly. “Now, any sane Roman leader would see that a Roman minded, but strong, Hermanduri leader would steady things here. Do you think Akkas is a strong one? He seems to be afraid of his own shadow. Will Rome be happy to see him ruling the land, especially when he might easily lose it all soon enough? Are you going to rule it yourself? That’s why the soldiers are here. You will fight the Quadi war, and then, your Prefect will take over.”
He half winked. “Well…no.”
I stared at him. And then, I spoke. “The Sarmatians? Tamura is going to rule?”
He shook his head and half winked again. “Not quite.”
I held my head, and he was smiling. “She said my death would bless her wedding. Wedding to whom?”
He winked.
I smiled. “Tell me. You hoped she and Akkas would kill Red Raven. You thought the Hermanduri would simply have to fight it out, and he would lose. Then, with him gone, Akkas would be easy to replace. Still, you do not want to plant a Roman standard on the land. You wish it to be ruled by locals and let them carry the brunt of the troubles.”
“Locals,” he agreed.
“Tamura is no local,” I said. “But she is a nomad and an exile, as are her people. She serves you well. Wait. No. She was supposed to kill Akkas for Rome?”
He coughed. “Yes.”
I laughed. “Gods. That is…” I took a ragged breath and poked him with the sword. “There someone else coming to rule? She is to marry someone we have not even seen, and you trust this man. Is there someone Rome trusts better?”
He smiled. “There is. He and his brothers are grown men and well versed in Rome and its affairs. He is coming from the north, from the lands of the Hermanduri near the Chatti and Semnones. There, the sons of Baldruff…that one whom Red Raven disposed of, escaped. We took them in. We often take in men who are beaten, exiles, and later find a use for them.”
“You are all heart,” Ingulf said.
He smiled gratefully. “Yes. That we are. He is called Cenhelm. He has four thousand men, and he was an exile in Rome for many years. He will make this land an ally. He will make us rich, and we shall finally see these fools like Akkas and Red Raven…” He retched and held his head. “I speak like Antius. And the Prefect. I feel sick. We shall make this land peaceful to rule.”
I was sitting and thinking. Ingulf was watching me as I pulled off the helmet from my head.
“Four thousand men, this Cenhelm has?” I asked him.
“Aye,” he answered, miserable and sick. “Maybe more. A centurion is advising him. They will know Red Raven is alive, but they expect him to be beaten by his humiliation, and they think Akkas is dead. He will arrive day after tomorrow, in the morning, and then, he’ll take over, and he’ll hunt down the last of the Red Raven’s men. It will cost us time. It is too bad the Raven wasn’t forced into battle.”
I kept thinking and poking at the roots. I was nodding and cursing softly, and the two watched me like they would a rabid wolf sitting on the edge of their bed. Marcus was flinching. I felt the hand of doom closing over my future, and then, I thought past what I had hoped for, hoped for even more, and found a way to a g
reat price. It was a complicated, dangerous way, and I wondered if I would see the end of it.
I nodded.
I smiled and settled on my hunches. “Well. I don’t like the Roman plan. For one thing, Red Raven is going to stay free, and Cenhelm won’t catch him. No, Cenhelm won’t succeed.”
“Why not?” he demanded drunkenly. “It is a good plan. It will give Rome power. That Cenhelm is a fine, well trained roman king, and Rome will be the stronger for it. He and the Sarmatians will marry, and if someone will threaten them, he can even get mercenaries from the Iazyges. It is an excellent plan. But you?” He snorted and shook his head. “You say no. Who are you to say no to anything? Eh?”
I shook my head. “The Roman plan. I cannot see it.”
“What can you see,” he said, “if not that?”
“I see my own. I can see an opportunity to unite the Hermanduri,” I laughed. “And to profit from it. We need to get our friend from the hillside, and I need to have a chat with her, and then, Marcus, you shall come with us for the great Wolf Fields. We have to—”
“Wait,” he whispered. “No. That makes no sense. They will never find a common cause. Not really. They will ruin the plan.”
“I will ruin your plans.”
Ingulf frowned. “What of Maino and Erse? They are down there.”
I looked that way and felt impatience gnawing at my guts. I pushed it away and turned to look at Marcus. “We wait. We wait for a moment. We ride this wind and see where it takes us. I must speak with Tamura on top of the hill, and I need you, Ingulf, to fetch a man. We must travel and hurry this very night. Marcus. You will obey me.”
“Me? A Roman?” he asked. “No. I cannot possibly.”
I pulled him closer to me. “You will. You will, because you are an unhappy man. You will, because you are a scoundrel. You will aid me, because you must, and if you do not, Marcus, I will add you to the same list as I put Bero, Maino, and Erse in. I shall kill the lot of you, in a horrible way. Look into my eyes. What do you see?”
He shook his head. “An animal. A wolf.”
“A bear, a beast above the wolves,” I snarled. “Ingulf. Let’s find Tamura. And Bero.”
***
She listened to me and thought for a long time. “I will be ruined.”
“They will forgive you,” I said. “They will. They will me.”
She shook her head. “For the girls, aye. For them. I will give you a gift. I shall aid you in war, and I shall save your life. One each. Then, I shall kill you.”
I nodded. “So be it.”
BOOK 3: THE WHITE TENT
“He was a good man, my father. You both gave him your oaths. I remember that. You gave them. You gave them in each Yule-Feast, and you spoke words of loyalty”
Cenhelm to the Red Raven, and Akkas
CHAPTER 11
The four war-lords looked tense as they lounged outside the hall. The Crow was walking back and forth. Tyr was eating dried meat, as he often did, and thinking deep. They were in their full war-glory, chain, scale, and ring mail around their bodies, and Roman weapons on their hips. I heard how Akkas was yelling to someone inside, trying to get ready as well. A throng of Sarmatians were around him. The meeting with the Red Raven was a surprise, to say the least.
It had been a surprise for the Red Raven as well.
He had ridden in with his men and son. His guards were a thick circle around him and me. He was sitting next to me on his horse and speaking softly, so as not to alert Tyr’s suspicion more than our discussion already did. Ulger, Crow, and Snake were too busy scowling at their men to pay attention.
“He is a damned, yellow bastard,” Heinrich kept repeating, as he listened to Akkas’s voice. “A bastard. I will laugh when they kill him during the sacrifices.”
“There won’t be sacrifices,” I said. “I told you.”
He stared at me with shock and then simmering fury. “No sacrifices?”
Tamura was pushing through his men, who parted. Ingulf was riding around, and I kept a close eye on him. He was approaching Bertilo, and then Bero, pale with fear, appeared and spoke with the man. I turned my eyes off them, so as not to alert anyone. I heard Heinrich speaking, so softly none else but us could hear. “Close enough. I see you have arms and weapons again. Not quite the sight I remember.”
Tamura was sitting on her horse and, like all her Sarmatians, was armored in the boiled, black leather. She carried a lance and her bow. The shield was slunk on her saddle. She said nothing.
I cursed in my head.
Heinrich shrugged. “Deaf again. That is risky, woman, isn’t it? Not for you, of course. Why am I here, Tamura? Why am I coming to my stolen hall well before the sacrifices, where you were supposed to gift me with something pleasant. A set of heads, I asked for?”
“How are my daughters?” she asked tightly.
He smiled. “They are alive. Didn’t sleep well. They were really restless.”
Tamura shook her head with silent agony, trying to avoid the question, but couldn’t. “Have they—”
“They are alive,” Heinrich answered. “Do you need to know more? One will come back to you. One will stay. I know which one. Mada. Mada will stay. I do like her best. Why are we here?”
I nodded at the hall to intercept Tamura’s answer. “Because you have both been duped.”
“You found your Maino and this Erse?” he asked, while trying to figure out what I meant.
I shook my head. “I didn’t see them. I think they might be there, and they must wait. See, I found something that will change things.”
“Rome is meddling?” he asked. “I know they are. I shall deal with it, after Akkas.”
I shook my head. “It is true, but it goes far deeper than this. I found Marcus throwing up on a river. And Marcus, he had lots to tell us.”
“What could he tell us that we didn’t already know?” he asked tersely. “We have done well, and now, you are here, wanting me to speak with him? Why?”
“You and Akkas are both in trouble,” I told him. “Rome likes neither.”
“I know Rome hates me,” he said with such rage his men flinched and horse neighed. “I know it. Everyone knows Akkas is a fool. That’s why we are here. He must die, and I will deal with Rome later. I—”
“They don’t like him, either,” I agreed. “The Sarmatians were supposed to kill him today.”
He hissed. “I know. That’s what—”
“They would have done it anyway,” I said. “Later this coming night.”
His mouth clacked shut. He frowned, and he shook his shoulders. “What?” he finally asked. “What do you mean? Tamura? You would have risked Hermanduri wrath in any case? Were you making a bid—”
Tamura lifted her chin. “No. I serve Rome. Now, I am betraying Rome, for my daughters. I want to see one returned now.”
“Which one?” the Red Raven asked slyly. “The one with a birthmark in her ass? Saruke? Because I like Mada. I might marry her off to my son.”
The silence was chilling.
Tamura nodded. “That one.”
He grinned. “That one. Aye. And for what? You are betraying Rome. How?”
“Have you heard of Cenhelm?” I asked him.
He squinted and looked suspicious. “The child of Badurad,” he said. “A son. He had ten. We killed six. Why?” he asked.
I waved my hand to the south. “Rome wanted Akkas to kill you in battle and the Sarmatians to kill Akkas,” I told him. “He wanted the men to blame each other. They hate you. They fear you; they know Akkas is a coward and would not make a formidable ally. They want the Quadi crushed, the king killed, and the land made peaceful for them. They hoped to see a scattered south this very day. Cenhelm is nearly here with four thousand men from the north. Cenhelm, friend, has been made a Roman, but he is of the Wolf’s blood. They are coming.”
He sat on his horse, stunned.
“There are nearly a thousand Romans in Akkas’s lands,” I added.
�
�What?” he whispered. “How many men does Cenhelm have?”
I shook my head. “Marcus wasn’t sure. Hermanduri, with ten chiefs and powerful families, some three thousand men. They have Chatti and other allies by a thousand. Mercenaries. Some king who calls himself Anvil.”
“Shit. I know him.”
Tamura waved a hand around and spoke softly, so Tyr wouldn’t hear. “They have the Roman support, Roman coin, Roman weapons, Roman training, and the Sarmatian ones. But I will fight them. For one daughter.”
He flinched and licked his lips. “That many men? Truly? Perhaps a hundred Sarmatian is worth one girl. Where is this Roman?”
I nodded and looked at Marcus, who was dragged forward. I saw Bero was now listening to Bertilo, and Ingulf flashed me a quick smile. Marcus came forward and flinched as Heinrich looked at him, but nodded. “I am sorry, it is—”
“Why are you sorry?” the Red Raven hissed. “And why would I forgive you? Is this true?”
He nodded.
Red Raven pointed a finger at him. “Did you roast him for the answers? That would make it certain.”
I shook my head. “I had no time to roast him. I simply pummeled and threatened him. We killed one of their men.”
He eyed my Roman gear. He nodded. “And what are you scheming at now?”
I winked. “It is a wise king who knows—”
He grabbed me by my tunic, and I considered his mad eyes, and he was whispering softly. “Tell them to kill Akkas now. Akkas. Then, I shall lead—”
“They would not follow,” I snarled as softly. “They follow Akkas, and some men follow you. They will be here tomorrow morning, and you will be divided and weak, as some of Akkas’s men will go over to Cenhelm. You shall be a vagabond in the woods. You must act together. You need to contain the enemy, to surprise him, and then decide the fate of your people later. Only after Cenhelm is dead can you make a move against Akkas. Let your Sarmatian slaves and her men slay him later and blame Rome for that. But for now, you must seem like a loyal subject—”
“What is this?” Akkas called out. “Tell me. I do not understand. Tamura?”
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