A shout to my rear, the cry of a hunter bearing down on his prey. A glance showed me bared teeth, a speck of white in the blackness as the hunter leapt a fallen tree trunk. BANG! A crash of thunder was preceded by a flash of light. More men were illuminated in the flash, all with spears to hand. I showed them my back and hurtled down a narrow track. My feet were in tatters, blisters forming on both heels. I sucked in air and kept my head down, my spear caught on a hanging branch as I ran and fell from my grip; no time to stop and retrieve it.
The bark of the hounds sent shivers down my spine, the sight of their fangs a horrid picture in my mind. The thud of their paws on the sodden earth; the beat fast and angry, as if Fenrir himself was on my tail. Somewhere Loki laughed in spite. Out of the trees now, the giant pines parted to reveal a small clearing that seemed to dazzle in the half light.
I saw it then, not twenty paces from me: safety. With renewed energy I pumped my legs and felt the tired muscles respond. The heather was up to my knees, the smell rich and invigorating. Men cheered now, some for me and others raised their voices in anger. A sliver of red; the first hints of daybreak battled through the cloud on the horizon behind it.
Closer now, no more than twenty paces, the flag billowed in the blistering chill. I reached out my arm, close now, so close. A hound barked behind me, so near I could hear its breath as it strained with all its might to reach me in time; longed to feel the break of my skin beneath its fangs, the metallic taste of my lifeblood on its tongue.
With a lurch I reached out and took hold of the flag, pulling it from the tree as I collapsed in a ruined heap on the wet heather. I gasped in great lungful’s of air, spread out flat on my back like a sacrifice to the Allfather. The hounds were on me now, snarling and drooling as they circled me, each deciding what bit to eat first. A sharp whistle, harsh on my ears, and they dispersed, tails between their legs.
A man approached, swathed in shadow. He wore a great bear skin that could have kept three average men dry in the storm; he filled it and more. His hobnailed boots dug into the earth as he approached; from the corner of my eye I saw the faint glimmer of a spear tip as it was lowered to my throat. ‘I’d heard you had The Sly One in you, Alaric, but I didn’t believe it till today.’ The spear was raised and I grasped the offered hand, allowing myself to be pulled to my feet. ‘You have earned the attention of king Agnarr, young man, now you may tell me why you are here.’
Two days later I sat in the king’s hall, drinking too much bitter ale and all the better for it. I had passed the test. Earned myself an audience with the king of the biggest union in Germania. The Suebi were a collection of tribes, a coalition of people all pulling together in the same direction. There was something very unique about being in a hall with a mixture of tribesmen and for there not to be blood splattered up the walls. To my right was the chief of the Sideni, in quiet conversation with a warrior from the Avarpi. Opposite them was an emissary from the Tevtones, clinking cups and drinking ale with the chief of the Lemovii. None of this was right, these tribes were all neighbours, and should therefore be at each other’s throats. It was of course, preferable to be on friendly terms with the tribe in the next village, but it was rarely the reality.
I had met Agnarr on a wide plain, just south of a stronghold called Viritium. My scouts had reported he was wintering there with the bulk of his men, and sure enough a small army marched out to meet us as I approached with the Ravensworn. Ketill had snuck off into the forest the night before, taking his men with him. We had agreed that it might be prudent to keep part of our force secret from the king, in case it ended in battle. I had been confident it would not, that the king would welcome me to his hearth and listen as I asked my questions. I hadn’t expected to have to prove myself by avoiding capture in a night hunt through a deep pine forest.
At the time I thought it was all innocent fun. Now I think he would have really killed me if I had not made it to the flag before the hounds got me. Anyway, water under the bridge now, as they say.
True to his word Agnarr had sat and listened as I fired question after question his way as we sat by a small fire under the very tree I had grabbed the red flag from. What deal did he have with Dagr? Did he have any contact with his daughter? Was there any reason why he would want his daughter dead? Or me for that matter. Long into the night we talked, the howls of wolves and squawks of hunting owls surrounded us. He met my eye with every answer, showed genuine horror when I spoke of the attack on his daughter and the wound she had taken. It was clear to me he loved her very much and was less than impressed with her husband. I had been sent away when my questions were asked. Told to wait until he had time to reflect on what I had told him. I had not seen him since.
‘Lord Alaric?’ a young warrior asked. I had not heard him approach, my senses dulled by the ale and the general cacophony in the hall. ‘Hmmm’ I said as I staggered to my feet. I looked the warrior up and down; tall and broad, his arms thick with silver rings that marked him as a killer. But his face was young and pure, he had no beard and was free of scars. Large blue puppy eyes looked at me in awe as he took in the leader of the most feared army in the land. ‘Can I help you, lad?’ I slurred, staggering on unsteady feet. I grew suddenly conscious of the roaring hearth behind me.
‘Sorry lord. King Agnarr requests you attend him, in his private quarters. Follow me, lord?’ he asked. His voice was high and squeamish, it didn’t suit his height and build. I followed the warrior with the girl’s voice through the throng. I was known here, feared. Men whispered as usual, some had the courage to meet my eye and nod a greeting.
We moved through a door at the rear of the hall and entered a small corridor. There was a strong smell of livestock and damp hay. Agnarr clearly wintered his animals in the huge hall, making me wonder why he didn’t have a separate barn built. I pinched my nose and breathed slowly through my mouth. Pig shit, horse sweat, sheep’s urine, it was all there, hanging in the air. We passed a busy kitchen, sweat soaked slaves rushing around large pots that sat atop cooking fires.
Finally, we reached a small door at the end of the corridor. To my left now was the animal pen, packed so tight with life it was a wonder any of them had room to drop their guts. My girlish-sounding escort knocked once on the door then stepped to the side, gesturing for me to enter.
I pushed open the door and entered a tiny bed chamber. For a man who ruled large swathes of land, with kingship over numerous small tribes, it was sparse and void of any decoration. I had seen slave quarters with more possessions, small round houses that had more colour. The king sat on a small straw pallet, wearing nothing but a faded Roman tunic and woollen trousers. He looked tired, worn out. I closed the door behind me and nodded, fighting the urge to stand to attention as if I was some new recruit on parade.
‘Alaric,’ the king nodded, rising to his feet and gripping my arm. He honoured me then, treating me as if I was an equal. He sat back down and motioned for me to sit on a small wooden stool next to the bed. I studied him as I did taking in his tired features. His hair and beard were as grey as the winter, age lines scarred his face. His eyes were a dark brown, like bottomless pits. His nose was small and bunched, as if it had been flattened by a shield boss one too many times over the years. Knowing the man’s reputation for violence, I assumed it probably had.
‘Lord king, I trust I find you in good health?’ I asked once I had sat, noticing the yellowing of his complexion.
‘I’m fine Alaric, just old is all,’ he said, running a fat finger through his beard. ‘I have been thinking on our conversation the other day, planning my next course of action.’
Silence. It hung in the air like woodsmoke trapped against a thatched roof. I did not know whether to speak or wait for the king. He ended my indecision, ‘I took Dagr and his tribe into the arms of the Suebi because I’m old, Alaric. I rule over many tribes, many chiefs, but none of them have the strength to rule when I am gone, to keep the alliance together and the people strong. I had been hoping Warin woul
d be that man. It appears I was wrong.’
I didn’t speak, was unsure if I was meant to. I had an inkling as to where this conversation would end: war. ‘I have not been idle in the days since we spoke, after you proved yourself to me in the hunt,’ I shuddered – my muscles still burned from my night run through the forest, I could still smell the warm breath of the hounds, the image of their fangs still keeping me up at night. ‘I have a spy in Warin’s guard. Ten men sworn to protect him till death, though only nine are loyal to him. He sent word of his jealousy of you, and my daughter’s feelings towards you. It would appear he let his emotions get the better of him, and tried to have you both killed.’
I felt my cheeks colour, wished I had not drunk so much ale that my wits had deserted me. ‘I spoke to your men, Alaric. Earlier today you were too deep in your cups to notice. Ruric stammered his way through your defence, the rest of your captains feigned ignorance and one even threatened to kill me!’ Agnarr said, his face splitting into a grin.
‘Baldo?’ I asked, arching an eyebrow.
‘Yes! Quite the warrior, I think.’ Luckily for me, Agnarr was still chuckling. The laughter caused him to erupt into a coughing fit, when he was done, dark blood was spattered over his hand. He wiped it on his trousers, I could see the shake in his hands. ‘As I said Alaric, I have no legitimate sons, my wife was always barren. Sure, I had lovers and they bore me sons, but can I leave my people with a bastard? When I am gone I need someone I can trust to rule my people. That man could be you. I see a lot of myself when I look at you, the man I used to be.’
I sat there, mouth open, tongue drooping to my chin. Me? Rule the Suebi? ‘I…err…’ I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think clearly.
‘Your men love you, Alaric. If I knew nothing else about you, that would be enough. But I also know your enemies fear you and hate you for it. I know your men are the most formidable force this side of the Roman borders. And I know that you love my Ishild.’
I went to speak, to protest my innocence, but Agnarr’s raised hand silenced me. ‘I know, I know! You haven’t touched her, you’re married to Dagr’s daughter, she’s having your baby. Spare me Alaric. You love her, and she loves you. That is all that matters.’
I felt sick. The heat from the small fire in the room was suddenly overbearing. ‘What are your plans for the spring?’ Agnarr asked, wheezing now, another coughing fist was imminent.
‘I have business in the south,’ I said, still trying to gather my thoughts.
‘Rome,’ Agnarr said. It was not a question, but a statement. ‘They want you dead. I received a messenger, a frumentarii agent last spring. Said his name was Trajianus, offered me gold for your death. Like I said, your enemies fear you. What will you do?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ I said with a sigh. ‘I was hoping Dagr would help me on that front, hence why I married his daughter. But I can’t sit idle and wait for the dagger in the night, I must take action.’
Agnarr nodded. ‘You must, I agree. I’ll make you a deal, Alaric, lord of the Ravensworn. You go south and deal with Rome, and I will clear the path for you to be my successor, and give you Ishild’s hand in marriage.’ He spat on his palm and offered it to me, I did the same and gripped his arm. I was going south, Rome would feel my wrath and my sword would sing a bloody song as it cleaved through the skulls of my enemies. And when I returned, I would be king of the most powerful tribe in the land, with the most beautiful woman as my wife.
PART II
NINETEEN
Late summer of the following year found my small fleet and I on the River Danube, cruising under a star filled sky. It was the tenth year of the reign of the Emperor Antoninus Pius, a man who had won great battle fame in northern Britain, even extending their borders beyond the wall of Hadrian, to the ‘Vallum Antonini,’ or ‘Antonine Wall’ as it was to be known, without ever setting foot outside Italian soil.
Nor would he, if the rumours were to be believed. The divine Hadrian had named him as successor toward the end of his reign, though from what I gather he was most undeserving of the reward. Hadrian had been a man I would have liked to have met on the field of battle, an adversary I could respect. He ruled for more than twenty years, scouring his lands and boosting his troops morale wherever he went. Despite his preference for boys, he had seemed a military man to the core, someone who knew that his soldiers were the most important people he ruled. Sadly for Rome, none of that seemed to have rubbed off onto his protégé.
Rome was at peace, the ‘Pax Romana’ ruled in all corners of the world, if the merchants coming north from the empire were to be believed. There had been no widespread publicity for my raid on Ulpia Noviomagus the year before, my capture of three warships or my assassination of two frumentarii agents. Not to mention the fact I had snuck into Colonia Ulpia Traiana disguised as a Roman officer and butchered two men there. I had an ego, still do to be honest, and that ego needs to be stroked, caressed and teased until my head feels so big my back might collapse under its vast weight.
It hurt, the lack of recognition. The raid on Ulpia Noviomagus had been credited to the Chauci, which really pissed me off. No mention had been made of the missing ships. Rome’s pride, their hubris, was about to cost them dear. No one challenged us as we casually sailed through waters that were officially ‘Roman’. People waved from the southern bank, smiled and cheered as we laughed and waved back.
Getting our boats onto that river had been no easy task, but I was determined to have them for what I was about to attempt. We had rowed them down the River Elbe, from the North Sea at its top to its very end in southern Germania. The last miles had been absolute hell, rolling the great ships over felled tree trunks through hilly terrain and marshland. It had been a Roman auxiliary unit that had first given me the idea, for I had seen them do the very same thing when fighting on the north coast. Granted, they had had the full might of a cohort to help with the pushing and pulling, not to mention the constant chopping down of fresh timber. But my men had done their job well, and all three ships made it in one piece.
I had three hundred men crammed onto the ships with me, Ruric lead the other two files of Hundred, his own and Baldo’s, on the northern banks of the river. I’d given Adalhard the smaller vessel again; he had admittedly grown quite attached to it, and as we sailed through the night I could hear him and his men argue over what name they were going to give it. With me I had Otto and Gerulf. Gerulf commanded the second Liburnian whilst I was aboard the other with Otto and his Hundred, men I had not spent enough time with over the last year. They were good, disciplined and efficient, as I would expect of any of my files, but I had not yet seen them fight.
We had entered the river just east of the Roman town of Lauriacum, an administrative town that was home to some auxiliary cohort or other. The River Enns drifted lazily off the Danube and deeper into the Roman Province of Noricum. It was not Noricum I wanted to be in though, that small auxiliary cohort was not my target. I wanted Pannonia and the Fourteenth Legion.
I had learnt the previous year that the order for my death had come from Pannonia. There were two main legions based on Rome’s northern border in that province: The Tenth at Vindobona and the Fourteenth at Carnuntum. The Tenth legion were an unknown quantity to me, though only a shadow of the legion they had been when Caesar led them to victory in Gaul. The Fourteenth I had far more knowledge of. Not only had they been the legion that raided my home and murdered my mother, but I had fought a few skirmishes in southern Germania with them in the years that followed. They were deadly, well trained and well led, and not to be taken lightly.
I knew deep down that the man I sought could be found in Carnuntum, hiding behind those rectangular shields emblazoned with the Capricorn. I had no evidence to prove it, but I just knew it.
‘You ok, chief?’ Otto asked me. I must have been staring off into the night. My eyes had glazed over, and I had to shake my head so they regained focus. ‘Thinking of the baby?’ he asked with a knowing look in his eye.
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br /> Saxa had given birth to a boy in the spring. Little Ludwig Alaricson had been born on a cold and cloudless night. He weighed less than my sword; I instantly fell in love with his small button nose and scrunched up eyes. His skin was as pale as his mothers, but his long arms and legs promised a physique like his father, at least that’s what the old crone who had helped deliver him had said. She had given me the creeps, that woman. Claimed to be close to the gods, claimed to be able to see men’s futures. I saw through her charade, only the three spinners can determine a man’s destiny, and she was most certainly not one of those.
‘No,’ I said, bringing myself back to the present. ‘War.’ Otto studied his boots for a time, then finally said, ‘you know my men can be counted on, don’t you chief?’
I started at the question. True, Otto was something of an anomaly to me, a man I had spent little time with. He had been appointed to his position on Ruric’s recommendation two years ago. In that time we had seen very little action, and what fights there had been Otto and his men had not been a part of. ‘You really think you would be here if I didn’t?’ I asked, both shocked and ashamed that he would feel the need to ask.
‘Sorry, chief,’ Otto replied, still studying his boots. ‘Just don’t see much of you, is all. I know we might not be your favourite men, the ones you always chuck in to the fight first. But my men are good, chief. You give us the chance and we’ll show you what we can do.’ A tumult of growls and cheers greeted this, as his men echoed their captains confidence. I gave them a rueful grin. I had been unaware our conversation was being overheard; it did my heart good to know the men were eager to show me their prowess.
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