“That is a former king of the Quadi. War-king,” Gunther roared. “The father of Cynefirth!”
I squinted up at him. “Does he think there will be a flood? Or is he nesting?”
Gunther sputtered and spat. “You—”
“Ask him,” the king said with little amusement in his voice, “does he have soot under the armor? Since he looted a chain after his hall burned, there should be some.”
Gunther nodded and turned. “Aye. That is a good question. Show me.”
I nodded and lifted my chain.
I had scrubbed myself under the chain as well.
Gunther shrugged. “He seems to have been near a burning…something.”
“And the woman?” he asked. “Is she too blackened?”
Gunther looked at her. “Yes.”
“In body?” Owl asked.
I stiffened. Her tattoos would look curious.
Gunther sputtered. “You ask me to tell her to undress?”
The Owl hesitated and nodded. “Fine. No need for that.”
I let out a breath.
Owl went on. “Bring them to the camp. Send two men riding to the woods. Just in case. Come join us for some food and rest. Then, later, you can ride south and join my son and his allies in the battle against your foe, and ours.”
I rode forward, waving gratefully at the man Gunther, who only had eyes for Tamura.
I rode next to the rocky formation and got down, while many of the Quadi slowly relaxed and went to sit down. I needed not fake exhaustion, and Tamura looked as haggard. Geirr and Falco were hauling the horse behind, and some Quadi warriors around us were looking on with Gunther. Their eyes showed no interest, only suspicion. They had seen plenty of people that day, running from the war, though they had sent most back.
There was a small fire burning on the side of the large rock, with a pot boiling meat and lentils, and a young Quadi squatted to give us food.
Or, rather, to her.
She smiled gratefully and ate, while we served ourselves. I looked at Gunther and found him still staring at Tamura.
“Are you going to go soon?” he asked. “She can stay here.”
I snorted. I took a piece of meat, sat down, and leaned on the rock, looking up at it. It was three men high. I wondered how they had hauled the Owl up it. The old king could barely be seen, holding the horn and the shield, patient as his namesake, still serving his tribe, even if he was blind. And still, he was the weak link in the Quadi plans.
Lok had guided us well.
I waved my hand to the south. “So, tell me. What is going on? I hear the horns in the south.”
Gunther rode around, looking for the scouts he had sent to the woods. “What do you mean? War. The one you are keen to join.”
I pointed a finger at the eastern woods. “They say there are some fifteen thousand enemy coming this way. They have obviously been preparing for war for a long time. Are we going to be able to stop them?”
Gunther shrugged. “I know not. We don’t want to let them have our land for free, at least. They’ll be fighting all along the woods today. We’ll keep them long enough, I think.”
Long enough?
“They have cavalry,” I said darkly. “People who seem to shit and live in saddle.”
He nodded. “They want to take a town and the woods. We won’t fight them in the fields. The eastern riders are no concern.”
I shook my head and ate silently.
“If you,” called the Quadi Thiuda from the top, “are so uncertain of our chances, why would you fight for us? We have our surprises, boy. My son, Cynefirth, my grandsons, and brothers might not have the men to defeat them alone, but we shall defeat them anyway. We are not bereft of allies.” He looked down at our general direction, holding the horn loosely. “Kings and war-chiefs will come to aid us. We all loath the Hermanduri and the Chatti.”
I nodded. “Oh, I do as well, at least after today. I saw there were southerners with them.”
“Romans?” he asked, finally curious. “Truly?”
“Men who all dress in armor,” I agreed.
He spat. “They are making a bold move. We have long been having trouble with Rome and Matticati in the west. The great river there is the barrier between Marcomanni, our allies, and the enemy that is building up strength in Gaul. They have Germani allies in their side of the river. Vangiones. Ubii. Others. I supposed it was only a matter of time they tested us here. They cannot stand the fact my son married a Semnone princess, the trade princess of the Stone Home, and part of Freyr’s Tears come for our lands now. Rome has been gnashing their teeth at the price we ask for it. We have been growing very rich.” He smiled. “No, we shall not let the enemy take it. They’ll lose, and keep paying the hard price for their precious amber.”
I grunted. “I just need a new home. There were so many of the enemy. Fifteen—”
“Ten thousand. Chatti, Romans, and riders included,” the man said. “We have skilled scouts. A spirit of a man leads them. He’s angry as shit at the Hermanduri, or someone there. He’ll do his evil on them later this week.”
“Really?” I asked, feeling foreboding pressure on my belly. “What’s his name?”
He shrugged. “A northerner. Chatti? Further field? It might be so. Hulderic, he calls himself. Came to us a victim of the Hermanduri. Lost his men, save for few, and came here with his wife.”
His wife? Tamura was getting up and walking for her horse. Gunther looked at her with utter fascination.
“He leads a few hundred of our men,” Owl said. “They are out there.”
I frowned. “Where? They are behind the Hermanduri? That would be quite a—”
“No,” he said tiredly. “They are finding some more—”
And then, as if cut by a sword, the night’s silence was lost. Men were dying out in the woods. A scream, then another, echoed from the east.
Tamura moved and ripped out a lasso from my horse.
I jumped up. Geirr and Falco pulled out Roman swords hidden under a blanket of the wounded horse and stabbed at two men crouching near the fire.
I rushed Gunther, whose face looked utterly shocked. Out of the dark, a mass of riders was coming.
It all happened so fast.
The king was getting up and putting the horn to his lips.
The lasso flew true and twisted around him. Then Tamura pulled him and the horn from the rock. The man yelled in surprise, rolled down, and crashed down to the ground heavily.
Gunther was yelling. “To arms! To arms! Get news to the Thiuda!”
My sword hacked down on his leg.
It split the thigh, and he howled as he and his horse crashed to the trail. I turned and survived a thrown framea by an inch, the shaft whirling past my throat. I saw five and more of the Quadi loping from the darkness, hairs billowing wildly in their haste, their spears and cudgels high.
Geirr and Falco were hunched over the king. Their swords were stabbing furiously. Tamura was holding a sword, one that had been hidden on my horse, and was facing the enemy, laughing at the carnage. The enemy came at her. The first club, she dodged under lithely, she cut the man’s knee, and the second club, she stopped with the sword. Then, two men crashed at her with their shields, and they all fell back into Geirr and Falco.
I stepped forward and rushed at them.
I hacked down a man whose spear was over Tamura, and another man rammed his shield at me. I fell back, stepped on the horn on the ground, crushing it, and then, I rammed my blade on Geirr’s back. I did it fast and stepped away from the man. Falco was killing a Quadi, his blade stabbing at the man’s belly, and Tamura was on her feet, slashing like a maniac at two Quadi coming for them.
I stepped forward, the Head Taker high, and Falco turned and saw Geirr howling on the ground, holding his back.
Somehow, he knew it had been me.
His eyes went to mine. He pushed away a Quadi and turned my way. He was fast, and I slipped. He rammed the blade for my throat.
Tamura moved, and her blade sawed to his neck.
He cursed, staggered away, and was pinned down by Quadi spears. I jumped next to Tamura and slashed at a Quadi shield, pushed away a man, stepped back with Tamura, and we put our backs on the rock.
The Sarmatians were there.
They did the killing efficiently.
Their ox-hide armor gleamed and wicker shields flashed as they released arrows, and their long slashing swords hacked down at the fleeting Quadi. The enemy seemed to fall where they stood, holding shafts, and the riders were speeding past them so quickly, we didn’t even see the sword strikes, the stabbing lances.
Four Quadi rushed to the woods.
One by one, they were riddled with arrows.
Then, there was silence.
I listened. No horns were braying. Horses were whinnying gently. Someone died in the woods. Then, nothing.
I turned to see Lucius ride up, and he was looking around as the main mass of men came into sight. He stared at the dead by the rock.
His eyes went to mine. “The two men. Geirr and Falco. Where are they?”
I walked past him and pointed my sword at each.
The centurion gave us an inquisitive look, and Tamura shrugged. “They fought well. We have no time to worry about their burials or your suspicions. They are gone and so is the enemy. We must ride. We get to the edge of the wood by evening, and when the first light dawns, we are near the town.”
He ground his teeth together as he rode his horse around the corpses, looking at the wounds of the two. I ignored him and found my horse.
The cavalry gathered, and we went on, scouts out. We rode the day, found few enemy, and no horns were blown. We reached the edge of the woods. We saw craggy hillsides marching to the west. There were rivers and a lake far in the horizon, and fields of barley swayed in the wind. Roads ran through the fields and to our south, far in the distance, riders were coming and going. There, somewhere deep in the woods, the Thiuda Cynefirth was fighting Cenhelm, entirely unaware his father had been killed, and that there were enemy on his rear.
Tired, hungry, we rode to the night.
CHAPTER 17
The morning dawned, and we rode forward for the town.
I was sure I had fallen asleep for a moment during the ride, but I couldn’t be sure. The horses covered the ground over the fields in a steady pace, and even if a horse occasionally fell with a broken leg after stepping into a hole, and men were hurt when they fell from saddle, half asleep, we hardly stopped. We were making good time. The Sarmatians wore their armor, shields and helmets, leading us on their powerful, small, fast stallions. We didn’t have spare horses, and our mounts would need a long rest, but it was a small concern for now. There were five hundred Chatti, eighty Sarmatians, and we would no longer be unseen as the light of Sunna made its way to the sky.
A red cloud was hovering over the sky.
It would be a bloody day.
Few Germani saw our force. Some came close, and most of those fell with arrows jutting from their bodies.
Soon, men were riding wildly for the town, and yet others for the woods.
Then, horns were playing wildly, distant yells could be heard, birds scattered from the fields, and deer galloped out of our way as we rode for the town.
After ten Roman miles of wild riding, on top of a small hillock, we were very close to it.
There were a hundred halls scattered around a river. A huge hall was on the edge of the river, and there were piers and corrals of horses. The bridge over the river was a sturdy thing, wide as a pair of wagons might drive, and old.
“Celts built the roads,” the centurion panted tiredly, as he looked at it, “long ago. They built bridges. The Quadi have accepted many men into this place, and many of them are craftsmen, so they keep it in good repair. Soon, they will all be made examples of.”
I shrugged, my eyes red with fatigue. “I don’t care. We go in, and we take it. We hold the bridge until the enemy appears, and they all die.”
He nodded. “The Sarmatians will sends scouts all over the town and will harass the enemy while you go in and carve a way through it. We might make it yet.” He hesitated. “You might consider leaving the Chatti for me to command. You might just ride away. I know the Prefect.”
“He asked you three to make sure I die,” I said. “And Tamura. I know it.”
He nodded. “Perhaps so. There are other Sarmatians to ally with, to marry. Things happen in war.” He pulled his cloak aside, and his Roman armor shone. He was tugging his helmet on, one with a glorious red plume. He looked like a god of war and seemed happy to go into battle. “Rome cannot forget, even if Cenhelm can. It doesn’t work that way. Take your victories and your past and ride away alive.” He spat. “You are desperate to try to fit here. I’ve seen men like you before, exiles, but thriving elsewhere. I—”
“There are men in the town!” called out Tamura. “There are warriors!”
Few miles out, we saw the enemy rushing around in panic in the town. There were a thousand and more people, dodging in and out of halls and houses. There were boats leaving, manned by men and families, and riders galloping wildly for the north and west.
There, in the middle of the village, before the great hall, a Quadi chief was making his men ready.
There were a hundred men, more, and men were joining his ranks as we watched. Shields of red and black and a high standard with a golden shield flashed in the midday light. There, a tall blond man in a great cape was calling out his men to stand brave. They cheered him, though we couldn’t hear it. They raised their spears high, and no doubt screamed their voices hoarse. Birds were startled to flight; the people were thronging past the warriors for safety of the other side.
Tamura turned in her saddle. “You Chatti form before them. And we shall secure the village! Give Cynefirth a reason to get here!”
I nodded.
I grinned at Lucius. “You won’t leave,” the centurion said. He put a hand on his sword’s hilt.
“I must make my place somewhere,” I said. “I’ve never seen a man gain a thing by riding away. If your people want to kill me, you are welcome to try. Cenhelm isn’t going to help you.”
He laughed. “Why?”
“Because I am going to win his war for him,” I snarled. “And they will see it. They will all see it.”
He laughed. “Rome is winning his war for him. They’ll see me out there today—“
I shook my head. “Well, I ordered Oderic to take care of you in the town, but why wait?”
I struck him in the face and hurtled him out of his saddle. He fell hard, struck his face on stones, likely broke his neck, and rolled to the edge of a ditch, laying still.
I ignored the looks of my men and rode on. The pragmatic Chatti followed along.
There was a battle, but mainly, it was a butchery.
What happened in that town was a necessity of a war. Usually, one would allow men to bargain for their lives, to give hostages, to make themselves slaves, to trade lives for allegiance, to forfeit cows and horses in order to walk free. There were women and children in the village. There were men barely out of childhood. There were traders, old men from south and north, foreign dignitaries, setting up new trade routes.
They didn’t see a band of Germani coming for them. They would know they might survive.
They saw a horde of mercenaries and Sarmatians coming for them. They knew there would be no mercy. They knew Rome would want to make an example of them, those who dared to discomfort Rome, and its trade.”
We thundered to the town and went for the bridge.
We trampled over men and women, the elderly, and the traders. The closer to the bridge we came, the more Sarmatians began losing arrows. They did it indiscriminately at the masses. Men screamed and fell on their faces. Women begged for mercy and got none. The Chatti were screaming their joy to the high air as they rode behind the killers. The Sarmatians were
soon breaking off in groups. Men with heavy swords, their ox-hide armor bloodied, teamed with archers, and they rode down masses of fleeing people. I saw Tamura looking back at me as she turned away.
She was seeking to save me.
I begged Lok she would not find the opportunity.
She went forward, disappeared, and I saw in the dust clouds how terrified people were falling and scattering before the evil lances and swords of her troop, the arrows reaching out even to fleetest targets. There were screams all around us, and then, we had our own battle at hand.
Before us opened a sight of milling mass of people. They were pushing for the bridge. Next to the hall stood a party of hundred and fifty warriors, their backs to the river and the bridge. A standard with the golden disk gleamed in their midst, and we could hear their chanting, their shields being banged together.
“Get down!” I screamed. “Get down and form up!”
Javelins arched over the mass of the fleeing people. They tore to our horses and our shields and flesh. Men fell in a jumble of limbs and horseflesh.
I jumped down and lifted my shield high. A javelin ricocheted off it, and another tore to a man behind me. Then, so very fast, Chatti crashed into line next to us. Fifty, hundred, several lines formed behind us, moving slowly forward.
I began walking, my shield covering Odrick to my left, and a man on my right covered my side. I held my sword above my shield, and spears were hovering over my shoulders as the thick shield-wall moved forward.
We walked to the screaming people and began slaughtering them.
Shields first, we slashed our weapons forward to the helpless flesh. We stabbed and hacked, stepping over the wounded and the dead. There was a thin trader with a very pale skin who threw his hands up and beseeched me for his life. I pushed him down with my shield, and Odrick stabbed him dead. There was an old matron, who swung a dull ax at my shield, and I pushed the sword to her throat. We stormed forward, leaving the refugees split in two, the ones on our right soon scattering to brave the Sarmatians, and then, we came face to face with the Quadi line.
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