The Wolf

by Alaric Longward

  “I’ve never seen you happy, except in a shield-wall,” I laughed. “I wonder if you really should marry your sword and horse. It is a mare, after all.”

  “It is not,” he said darkly. “And if you take that line of thought further, I shall tell the Hermanduri you want to sit on a sharp stake before they take your head.”

  I grinned and tried to focus. “It will be hard.”

  “They have fought a battle,” he said, uncertain. “And they are hungry, tired, and think they have won. It will be easier than eating a full boar.”

  I wasn’t sure if that meant we would succeed or not.

  Ingulf lifted his hand and went still. We waited as two riders passed, not too far. They were huddled in their cloaks and rode north. We stood still, and then, Ingulf moved, and I followed. Then, he spoke softly. “Maino is going to be married, perhaps. You might be, if you behave.”

  I shook my head. “Unless they bring back Saxa—”

  “Take a look at that toad vitka,” he said with anger. “Wulf, his name is. He is going to be infecting Balderich with Bero’s venom.”

  I gave him a long look. “You tell me to ware my tongue, and to hold my anger in check, and then, you seethe over Bero and his corrupt ways?”

  “I do,” he said. “Both. You have no right to murmur complaints, but I do. I’ve deserved the right to seethe. I have no wealth and no position of blood to marry anyone for a long while. And I don’t think I want to marry anyone, if…”

  I shook my head and felt sure he only wanted to marry one.

  “So,” I said. “Bero is making trouble.”

  “He’ll try to speak his way to power, and Maino’s his pawn,” he said. “Hulderic is too modest.”

  I laughed bitterly and kept my mouth shut only after he punched my arm. I winced with pain, and he walked on.

  “Why did you leave me?” I asked him. “We have both broken oaths before. We have cheated and killed men unfairly on our road. This we have both been guilty of.”

  He shrugged. “You were going to go on indefinitely,” he said. “Betrayal and one feud after another. I thought you would settle for something. Red Raven. Akkas. Both bad. I hoped you would take Maino and leave. You should have kept your oath to fight Maino fairly. Instead, you chose to betray both the bastards and to make an enemy of all Hermanduri and still think you might settle in. You even upset Rome. You chose a road that would lead to more and more conflict and betrayal. It would go on until you died. I had no wish to see you die. So,” he said, “I took away your price and went to see what would happen. I did tell Erse to ask you about Maino. If you had agreed to keep your word, I would have stayed.” He gave me a long look. “I wonder if you saw the emptiness of it all when I left. Did the Romans and the Hermanduri love you after your favors?”

  “I don’t know,” I told him. “Probably not. They sent this centurion and the two guards of Akkas to kill me at some point. I beat them to it.” I smiled. “They won’t love me after what I have planned.”

  Ingulf grunted. He had a sturdy rope which he threw me. I tied it on the saddle and hung the rest on the pommel.

  He eyed it. “I will try my best.”

  “If not, you just kill him,” I said. “Tamura would do it in a heartbeat.”

  “She would.” He laughed. “She must have been so relieved when she could kill you.”

  I nodded. “She said she might be with a child. I didn’t have it in me to kill her.”

  He laughed and kept walking, and then went silent. “Wait. You don’t think I will? I won’t. You think she will be down there?”

  “She was to be his queen,” I said. “She might be.”

  “I wonder how Cenhelm will like raising your boy,” he said with a grin.

  “The boy,” I said, “will not have to worry about that.”

  Ingulf nodded. “I forgot. He won’t.” He squinted. “You don’t see it, but there is a familiar tent near the bridge. He’ll be there.”

  ***

  Three Sarmatians passed us and stopped to look at two men coming to the camp. They saw my rain-soaked, bloody face. They saw the horse was one of theirs, and when one rode closer to question me, I gave him a baleful glance, while holding a bloodied rag to my face. The rain was so thick, I couldn’t see the look on his face, but he hesitated and turned away.

  I felt an acute need to shit, and then, we rode down to the camp, and I tried to belong.

  Men were sheltering under tents, lean-tos, and in the remains of halls, but few were walking the camp, running miserable, wet errands. The Roman auxilia had indeed erected a camp on the west side of the river and were marching earthen walls with torches that sputtered, ready for Quadi and Marcomanni, who might try to retake the bridge.

  I saw Cenhelm’s tent.

  I could see a brazier burning inside, and the soft glow spread from under some badly staked corners. I saw two guards outside the doorway, and they turned to look at me, both whipped by rain.

  “Here we go,” I whispered to myself, as much as to Ingulf.

  He grunted, and I jumped down from my horse and staggered forward. They took steps forward, uncertain, and I pushed my horse’s bridle to one. “Is he inside?” I slurred, holding a bloody rag to my face.

  “He is,” one man said. “He isn’t alone. He is busy. He must not—”

  “I’m a Roman, and he will see me. Right this instant. Stand aside,” I snarled. “And call Antius here. He is needed.”

  “Of course,” the other guard said dubiously, and pulled aside the flap.

  I dodged inside. Ingulf stayed outside and began speaking to the two in cheerful tones.

  I ignored them and walked inside. I felt a wave of welcome warmth hit me across the face. I walked to a corner, where the bed would be, and saw the shadowy figure of Cenhelm thrusting vigorously at a woman beneath him. I saw his face for a moment.

  He seemed so happy.

  He had gained great victory.

  He had defeated his foes, and he would rule the Quadi for Rome. He had celebrated with wine and steaming feast, and the remains of that lay scattered on a long table. He was being caressed by woman’s hands, and the soft gasps of the woman made me grimace. I saw a familiar lance and leather gear in a heap on the floor.

  The queen was claiming his king.

  I walked forward and grasped the lance. I saw them thrashing and heard them panting.

  “Cenhelm and Tamura,” I said. “Dear, have you told him of our child?”

  They went still, and both faces turned my way as they realized they were not alone.

  I pulled off my helmet. “You haven’t?”

  The king, his blond hair swaying around his face, got up unsteadily, his cock wet and dripping, and stood to face me. “Maroboodus. You survived!”

  I grinned and thrust forward, and the blade sunk to the heart. It went through his skin like a sword piercing water, and he fell to his knees, his hands pulling at the blade. He looked horrified and fell over the spear. I pushed him to his back and twisted the blade cruelly.

  I turned to Tamura. She was up on her knees on the bed, naked, the king’s juices on her thighs, and she grimaced. “You…you—”

  “I want to see you explain that to his men,” I said brutally. “That’s my vengeance on you.”

  She moved for her sword, and I stepped forward and struck her in the face, and she fell over the bed. I went over it and grasped her. I pulled an placed a sword on her throat, and she stared at me with fury.

  “I should have shot you again,” she said huskily. “But I couldn’t. I will, next time.”

  “I admire you,” I said. “You are much like my Saxa was. Take care of the boy, if you survive. But if you make a sound, I shall take your life. I’m not going to hesitate again.”

  “I—”

  “Silence,” I said, and we waited.

  Out in the night, I heard Antius speaking. He was furious and explaining something to someone. He was cursing in Latin, and I waited. Then, he was shuffl
ing just outside.

  “They want you inside,” the guard said. “Centurion Lucius. And the Thiuda.”

  “Lucius? He is alive?” Antius asked, and I begged Ingulf had the brains to step away and out of sight.

  “Whose side are you now?” Tamura hissed.

  I shook my head, my eyes on the door.

  I held my breath, and Antius pushed through the tent flaps.

  Many things happened then.

  His walked forward, and his eyes went round with shock as he saw us.

  There was a thump, which echoed from outside. Then, someone shrieked. “No! Wait!”

  Then, the man gurgled.

  Antius took steps away from the doorway and then whirled as he remembered me.

  I smiled at Antius. It didn’t please him. He took a step back and ran into Ingulf’s bloody fist. He was cursing. “They have heard and seen us. Hurry.”

  He pulled something in with him, put a rope around Antius’s legs and tightened it good. He went outside and winked at Tamura.

  I nodded and moved fast. “I am sorry for this.” I cut my sword deep into her ankle and moved away as she stared at her nearly severed foot in shock. I gave her a kiss on the head. “Just in case, love, you decide to come after me.”

  I got up, cut my sword into Cenhelm’s fingers, and took Hulderic’s ring with one, and ran out, kicking Antius while I did.

  “I don’t need a leg!” she howled. “I have a horse! You bastard!”

  I laughed, jumped on the horse, nearly vomiting for the pain in my chest and back. I kicked its sides, just when horns were braying. We rushed to the night and through the tent town, and I whipped the horse for the river. Men were rushing about, confused, and a few Sarmatians were riding after us. Most of the enemy was flustered, so Ingulf were safe enough as he dodged to the side and into the throng of people, but when the enemy saw a Roman on a horse, dragging another, howling man behind him roughly, and when I splashed to the river with the horse, arrows and javelins began falling. I was laughing, Antius was crying and spitting water and blood, and I hung on to the beast’s neck as I forced it to the current. I heard a Sarmatian riding to the water after me, and then, a boat appeared out of the dark, and Harmod and father were there, looking at me like they had on the day I had jumped out of their boat to escape to my own adventures.

  This time, I felt relief for seeing them, not seeing them drifting off.

  Harmod lifted a javelin and tossed it, and I heard a horse whinnying with pain behind me. I kept the beast swimming, swooned with pain in my back, and then, the horse was nearly floundering under my weigh, and the current. More arrows began splashing to the river, and one struck the beast. It rolled, and I fell off the saddle, hanging on to the rope. Then, I felt Father’s hands grasping my armor, and we were pulled on board. Antius, half drowned, was pulled up as well, pulling at the rope around his ankles, and by miracle, nobody was hit by arrows. Antius was yelling for help, but none came.

  On the eastern bank, the enemy was thronging and angry, and soon, there were blowing horns.

  They would have found Cenhelm dead. There were screams as Hermanduri and Sarmatian and perhaps Roman found they might not be allies after all. I pulled out a finger and tossed it to Father. I felt a stab of greed and anger as he took the ring out and placed it in his finger, but his smile melted my heart.

  Later, Ingulf swam over.

  ***

  Antius was sitting in the tent. He looked incredulous as he stared at us. Balderich was walking back and forth before him, and Antius was simply shaking his head.

  Balderich stopped to speak. “You will be a prisoner. You shall be bargained away at some point, but for now, you stay with us.”

  “I am worth nothing,” he said simply. “Absolutely nothing.”

  Balderich smiled gently. “I rather think you are not lying about that. You know what I mean. For your sakes,” Balderich said, “you had better hope that is not the case in the eyes of Rome. You will send a word to the Prefect. You have achieved all you need to achieve. You have retaken the trade city—”

  “Cynefirth yet lives,” Antius said stiffly.

  “And will live. You have claimed the land back to your allies, and that is as much as you will get. Cenhelm is dead, and your slave tribes are already quarreling. You have your hands full of work. Do not come to our lands.”

  He sighed. “I can tell him, but—”

  “You will tell him this while sitting under our spears, and then, you will come west with us,” he said. “King Cynefirth will still retain part of the trade for his marriage. You can speak with him in Hard Hill and try to settle into some sensible agreement. He is coming there, you see. That’s where we are going. Will you tell the Prefect this?”

  He sighed and rubbed his face. “I suppose I must. If Cenhelm is dead, then there is much to do.”

  “Enjoy your victories,” Balderich said. “And, yes, you will have plenty to do. The northern Hermanduri and the Dacians and the Chatti? They will make your choke-hold on the Hermanduri a thing of uncertainty. You will make a profitable deal with us before you are released. It will be in writing, as you Romans will.”

  He chuckled. “It will ruin me and has no value to Rome. Look, I have a powerful patron, but they will not yield on Roman plans and conquests—”

  “Rome,” Balderich said stiffly, “can conquer in the north, rather than in the south. But it matters little. Go tell the cohort to go home and set your slaver dogs to manage the brewing war between your allies. The Sarmatians left already last night.”

  I smiled. I hoped Tamura had survived.

  Antius gave me a baleful look. “I cannot walk. Not yet. My back and legs are bruised.”

  “We shall carry you,” Balderich said disdainfully. “Come, carry him.”

  I stood up and watched them go. I walked with Ingulf to a hall where the chiefs were feasting. We entered and looked around the smoky interior. I wore a Roman sword, which many of the man rushed forward to see, and there was suddenly admiration, rather than hate in their faces. Even the wounded son of Cynefirth, his leg heavily bandaged and forever hurt, gave me a curt salute. Tudrus was also sitting silently near me, staring at me thoughtfully, his face sweaty with pain and fever.

  I bowed my head to Hulderic, who got up from a table.

  He and Erse hesitated, but then Bero’s wife, a slight, beautiful woman got up and led me to a table.

  There, I feasted with them.

  I spoke words of peace to my father, I spoke words of peace to Bero, who neither forgave or condemned me. I said nothing to Maino, and the boisterous fool said no words to me. It was best that way, it was wise, and thus, we spent the evening eating vegetables, juicy boar, some overcooked deer, and enjoying Balderich’s ale and mead.

  When Balderich came back from the Romans, we turned to listen to him.

  “Rome is going home,” he said, as Antius was led to the hall in chains. “And the Hermanduri are staying, but many are going back home in anger. Red Raven’s son is reigniting his father’s feuds with the Sarmatians, and gods know if the other warlords, Tyr and this Snake, will let him rule. I doubt it. Salute the dead! Make sure the enemy knows they failed! Cheer!”

  They cheered. We cheered. The hall rang with lustful cheers, and the warriors across the land took it up. It echoed in the woods and forests, and men who had fought me came and saluted me.

  I was happy.

  I had not been happy for such a long time. I was drunk, I was beyond drunk, and laughed at jokes, and even Bero smiled at me. His wife clung to his arm, Erse looked at Ingulf, and I smiled.

  And so did Lok.

  When the night was far, and morning early, Maino, drunk beyond words, leaned forward. “Did you know I shall marry his daughter?” he asked, and nodded at Balderich, who was leaving with his vitka, Wulf. “Did you know that? Sigilind, she is called.”

  I said nothing. I nodded.

  “Sigilind the Fair,” he murmured. “I’ll make my boys with her. They’
ll rule the Marcomanni, one day. Balderich sees the blood of the Goths and of our family as great assets. Ever are they seeking such as us in the borders of their land.”

  I shrugged. “I hope you will make her happy.”

  He thrust his hips forward. “How could I not? See? I’ve never left a woman unhappy.” He opened his mouth and closed it. His pig’s eyes crossed, and he leaned closer to me, smiling. He whispered, “You know, when she was held in our hall. I made her happy. She was very happy. It was the night before.”

  I stared at him, feeling ice-cold blood rushing in my ears.

  He went on. “Saxa. She was happy. She had no choice but to be happy, as I demanded it on sword-point. That’s probably why she was going to escape on her own when you happened by. I know, she told me she would after I had had her for the third time, and after she had thanked me. She wept and hated me, but I know she was happy. She shuddered with pleasure.”

  I sat there, having listened to his words. He leaned back and began speaking to another. He apparently forgot all about me in a moment.

  I got up, smiled to Father, and staggered outside. There, I walked to a nearby cops of woods and sat down, trying to fathom his words.

  Lies? Possibly. Just words meant to hurt me. She had tried to escape on her own. She would have, anyway. Her spirit was such. She would have tried, and Maino had not a thing to do about it.

  Would she have told me? Would Maino not have mentioned it earlier?

  He would have. Perhaps.

  I sat and shook my head, listening to a night bird singing forlornly. Then, I heard something else. It was the vitka, Wulf. And Balderich.

  They were walking past.

  They were speaking.

  “I see this family’s future in my Galdr-songs,” Wulf said. “It is not usual. I don’t always see a thing so clearly. They have strong blood in them. It rushes in their veins as thunder across the sky. The Marcomanni will be strong under them.”

  “Hulderic is a great war-leader,” Balderich said. “His son, what an incredible journey.”

  “His son is ill news, perhaps,” the man said. “He has left nothing but waste behind him. Perhaps he shall lay waste in front?”