Chapter 8 – Demetrius
The following day we burned the corpses of the fallen warriors who had gone to Tengri, then feasted in their honour.
Prince Ottogar continued onwards to the lands of Rome. The seriously injured Heruli warriors accompanied his convoy to the main Heruli camp. The rest of us resumed our journey to Budorigum. Sigizan’s wound turned out to be less serious than we had initially thought and he could ride without much discomfort. My dagger was strapped to my belt, and the longsword, which was still too heavy to wield, hung from my saddle.
The two days on the road turned out to be uneventful. More than once an unfortunate forest dweller paid the ultimate price.
Sigizan enlightened me when another body, riddled with arrows, was dragged from the trees. “It is by order of Abdarakos. We are to shoot at any movement in the forest. Anything that could be a man.”
It appeared cruel, but it was necessary.
In any event, we reached the northern outpost of Heruli lands without further incident. Close to our destination the Oder River split, creating an island shaped in the form of an ash tree leaf, three miles from east to west, and a mile across. We forded the river, which was slow moving, in order to gain access to the island, or rather the settlement called Budorigum. The whole of the area between the branches in the river was cleared of trees, save a few large ones which provided shade in summer. In the centre of the town stood an enormous timber longhouse. All around the building, on the grass and mud covered island, caravan parties were encamped.
Many merchants had their wares on show. Some would rest at the town for a few days and then carry on to their destination. Others would exchange all their goods for items that are scarce and of great value in their own lands before they returned home.
I paid the goods of the merchants little heed. My sword and dagger were all my young heart desired.
I noticed armed warriors around the longhouse, and some patrolling the perimeter of the settlement.
“Why did the Longobardi not attack Budorigum?” I asked. “Surely there is a lot more loot to be gained here.”
Leo replied: “No tribal leader would condone the attack upon a merchant caravan. The traders will avoid the lands of such a foolish tribe. The people would not be able to trade their goods, nor acquire the items from lands afar. It would be much the same as opening one’s own veins.” He waved his finger in a circular motion. “And, it is difficult to assault a piece of land surrounded by water.”
The Greek lowered his voice and added: “The attack of the Longobardi was not to gain loot, boy. They likely possess a desire to remove the erilar of the Heruli from this earth. They covet the Heruli lands.” It turned out that he was wrong in his assumption.
Leodis motioned with his chin to a man descending the steps of the longhouse towards Abdarakos. “Come, boy, I am needed by your grandfather. Watch and learn.”
We tied our horses to the post in front of the longhouse and climbed the few wooden steps to where my grandsire spoke with a man whose clothing and demeanour resembled that of my Greek minder. Behind them, above the door, hung a thunderbroom of birch sticks to invoke the thunder god’s protection.
The man, I later learned, was called Demetrius, a Greek of some learning. He had been appointed to gather the toll from the trade caravans a few years before. As I was no more than a child, I was ignored by all for the most part.
Demetrius gestured toward the door of the longhouse. “Please, let us continue our discussion in private.” We entered past the burly guards who inclined their heads to Abdarakos.
The longhouse was eighty strides long and ten strides wide on the outside. I expected the same dimensions on the inside, but to my surprise the room was only twenty paces long. In the middle was a stone hearth in which a welcoming fire blazed. Thralls fed the flames with the abundance of wood available from the surrounding forest. The Greek dismissed the slaves with a wave of his hand.
Soft furs were scattered around the hearth with a few heavy chests lining the walls. A guard followed us into the room and dragged one of the sitting chests closer to the fire.
My grandsire, as befitting his status, sat down on the chest, with the rest of us taking our places on the furs.
The erilar was naturally intimidating. His blue-white eyes glared with an intensity that seemed to pierce the soul of the one suffering his stare.
For the first time, I felt the effect of Abdarakos when he wished to strike fear into the hearts of men.
The erilar would speak first, as was expected, but rather than issue words he drew his broad-bladed dagger, the hilt wrapped with black leather. I imagined a reddish hue stained into the blade by years of tasting blood. His left hand went to a pouch he carried on the hip, producing a piece of smoke-dried bear meat. The razor-sharp dagger effortlessly sliced across the grain of the meat. My grandfather did not sheathe the blade, but placed it on his knee. He returned the meat to the pouch and started chewing on the piece he had sliced off.
His gazed moved from the fire and fell upon Demetrius.
He did not speak immediately, but allowed the atmosphere to become uncomfortable. When he spoke, it was almost a whisper, or maybe a low hiss is a better description.
“How goes the taxes, Demetrius?”
The Greek kept his composure. “Lord, there has been a slight decline in the revenue over the past few moons, but I am sure that it is only temporary.”
An uncomfortable silence followed until Demetrius realised that his reply was not sufficient.
“The records are all available for your scrutiny, lord”, the Greek added. I could not help but notice a few beads of sweat on his forehead.
“You did not deem it necessary to inform me of this decline?” the Heruli asked. This was the first question laced with underlying hostility and Demetrius knew that he had to tread carefully. Abdarakos was no one’s plaything.
But the Greek was intelligent and cunning, and chose his words carefully without offering an excuse. “I did not inform you lord. Was I in error?” he countered.
The Heruli smiled a thin smile, but did not answer.
“Leave us, Demetrius. You will be called on when you are needed.”
Leodis stood, held out his hand and Abdarakos passed him his ale-horn. My minder filled it from the barrel and handed it back to the erilar before filling two nearby cups. He took one for himself and passed one to me before he retook his seat on the furs.
Abdarakos said: “I was wrong to think that the boat people are to blame. Demetrius is stealing from me. His fate is sealed, Leodis. Tomorrow I will have him killed.”
Leodis stared back at the Heruli, who scowled in reply. “Alright then, Greek, I will allow you the opportunity to prove to me that this man is innocent. You have until the morrow.”
He emptied his horn with one long swig and wiped the foam from his face with the back of his hand. He turned around before he left the hall. “Leodis, you will soon see that I am correct, but waste your time and inspect the scrolls, it matters not.”
Abdarakos turned to the guards and said: “No one is to enter except my Greek and the boy.” Then he added with a wicked grimace: “And make sure Demetrius can be found quickly when I so desire it.”
“We will watch him, lord. He will not leave Budorigum”, the burly guard replied.
Demetrius, we should have guessed, had a plan of his own. A plan in which I would play the lead role.
Chapter 9 – Taxes
When we were alone, Leodis stood and stretched his sinews. “Come boy, let me show you the rest of the hall.”
He opened a door leading to another room and stood aside for me to enter. The scene took my breath for a heartbeat. Never before had I laid eyes on such riches. All around, all kinds of priceless goods were stacked on shelves that went as high as the roof, to nearly the height of four men. Most of the merchandise was foreign to my eyes, but I identified the furs of the scarce black fox from the north. In a corner stood amphorae filled with hone
y and oil from the east, next to it bolts of multi-coloured silk from Serica. In the centre, too heavy for the shelves, stood round iron ingots from the land of the Saxons.
The Greek explained. “We take one part in thirty from the merchant caravans. In turn, we provide safe passage through the lands of the Heruli.”
I was young, but not a fool. “So, Leodis, they pay us to keep us from taking it all.”
He smiled at my grasp of the concept. “Yes, Ragnaris. It is good business.”
I continued: “Is it not easier to take all?”
The Greek grinned again. “Attila tried. If one takes all, sooner or later you run out of things to take. This manner of er… theft, called tax, is proven. The Romans did it, like the Greeks and the Persians who came before them. It works.”
Leodis waved his hand towards the rest of the building. “There is nothing of interest on that side. Only stables and animals.”
We returned to the hearth fire and my minder walked to a pigeon-holed wall containing various scrolls. He searched until he found what he was looking for.
From a timber container he selected an ostracon, a flat pottery shard, which must have been part of a large amphora once. From a pouch he took a sharpened reed and a small container of black ink.
He flattened the goatskin scroll with pieces of pottery and waved me closer.
Leodis placed his finger on a name with quantities recorded next to it. “I know of this merchant. He is Greek and has passed through here twice in the last few moons. Even better, Demetrius is unaware of the fact that I am familiar with this trader.”
Leodis copied the writing onto the ostracon and placed the shard in his pouch. “Now we will join Sigizan at the fire, boy. We will speak with the trader under cover of darkness.”
* * *
We sat around the cooking fire until it was dark. Leodis manipulated and bandaged my foot, whereafter my Greek minder and I set off to find Philemon, the amber merchant.
We found him in his tent, bent over a scroll.
The giant that guarded the door barred our entry, but Philemon recognised Leodis immediately. He waved away the guard. “Leave us, Valr. These men are friends. Make sure there are no unwanted ears close by.” The guard nodded and replied in Greek with a voice that sounded like metal grating on metal. “Yes, lord.” He turned on his heel and moved off into the darkness.
The trader walked to greet us. He clasped arms with Leodis and placed his other hand on my minder’s shoulder. “It is a pleasant surprise, my friend. I trust that the gods have blessed you since we last dined together.” I immediately liked the trader as he seemed sincere in his interest.
Then he turned to me. “I am Philemon, young lord. It is good to make your acquaintance.” Leodis answered on my behalf. “Ragnaris is the grandson of Abdarakos.”
Philemon raised his eyebrows. “Yes, yes, I can see it in his eyes.” Then he met my gaze. “Then all the more welcome to you, Lord Ragnaris”, he said and inclined his head. Never before have I been afforded such respect. The amber trader possessed a talent to make even a boy feel like a king.
We sat down on soft furs laid over a thick woollen carpet from the land of the Sasanians. He poured us each a small silver goblet of sweet white wine and joined us on the furs.
The two Greeks exchanged knowing smiles. Leodis took the ostracon from his pouch and handed it to the merchant, who placed it on the ground.
Philemon savoured the taste of the wine and said: “Demetrius has been good to me. I do not have a desire to be the instrument of his demise. Also, he has good relations with the Germani whose lands I have to traverse, especially the Longobardi.”
Leodis’s smile disappeared and he turned serious. “I believe we have met the Longobardi friends of Demetrius. They attacked us on the road.” He paused for effect. “I would suggest that you consider being the friend of Lord Abdarakos in this instance, Philemon. Demetrius has an appointment on the far side of the river.” Philemon knew Leodis was not referring to the Oder.
The trader placed his wine on the floor and walked to a small, ornate wooden chest covered with rich leather. He rummaged inside and produced two ostraka similar to the one Leodis possessed.
“These are the receipts of the taxes I paid. This one is dated three days ago”, he held up one of the shards, “and the other, five moons past.”
Leodis accepted the tax receipts and placed all three in his pouch. He would study them later.
“I will make special mention of your willingness to assist us, my friend”, Leodis said. “Lord Abdarakos does not forget a favour.” He noticed the nervous twitch on the amber trader’s face and added: “I will be discreet in my dealings. Do not be concerned.”
Philemon inclined his head. “I am pleased to have been able to assist.” He raised his goblet. “On friends, good fortune and profit.” We all drank the last swallow.
We would have been better off pouring it onto the soil, as a libation to Fortuna.
* * *
Before long we were seated in our tent, along with Sigizan. Leodis removed the pottery shards from his pouch and placed them on the furs.
He studied the numbers intently. “The tax that was levied on the amber consignment three days ago corresponds to the numbers on the scroll in the office of Demetrius.” He placed the shard to the side. “It is what I would expect. He knew we were on our way to pay him a visit.”
He picked up the shard dated five moons past. Again he studied the numbers. “It says that Philemon transported a hundred and fifty pounds of amber and three hundred furs of the black fox.”
Leodis was always the tutor. He stared at me, clearly expecting me to give an answer to the arithmetic.
“The tax of one in thirty would be five pounds of amber and ten furs”, I replied.
He nodded, clearly pleased that I could arrive at the correct answer. The Greek held out the shard to me. “Now read what is written”, he instructed.
I took the ostracon in my hand and held it next to the weak flame of the oil lamp.
“The receipt is given for seven pounds of amber and twelve furs”, I exclaimed.
Before Leodis could reply, Sigizan said: “He is a dead man. You see Leodis, Lord Abdarakos had the measure of the thief. Your fancy writing is a waste of time. It is better to spend time learning blade craft. It is even better to drink than to waste time on the letters of the Greeks.”
Sigizan thought for a moment then added: “It is different from the magic markings of the Heruli. The runes, the god-whispers, give power. They protect against evil. You would do well to spend your time on becoming a painter of the runes.”
Leodis listened to the rant with a scowl on his face. “Atakam has been teaching him”, he said. “Although I do not approve, Lord Abdarakos insisted that Ragnaris becomes a runemaster.”
“Our lord is a wise man”, replied the Hun.
It turned out that Sigizan was right. In the end, it was but a few runes that changed the course of history…
Chapter 10 - The trade (July 464 AD)
As a child, I very rarely had trouble sleeping. That night was different.
I rolled around under the furs, turning from side to side. Mayhap my contribution to the imminent demise of Demetrius bothered me? Truth be told, I thought that the Greek was deserving of his fate. The reckoning that awaited him on the morrow did not trouble me in the least. The only conclusion I can arrive at is that it was divine intervention. From which god, I am not certain. For Sigi and Leo it must have been the hand of Fortuna.
I was still awake at what I thought was the middle hour of the night. I crept out of the tent without disturbing my minders and walked twenty paces in the direction of the river to where a few giant oaks remained. The camp was asleep, with only the die-hards still enjoying the fruits of Bacchus.
I stumbled over a root as I neared the trees and came to a halt to make water. I heard a sound from behind and spun around. Halfway through my turn, an open hand clasped over my mouth. I trie
d to wriggle free and yell, but the grip of the calloused hand was like iron. More hands lifted me from the ground and, although struggling like a crazed animal, I was carried off to the river. The hand that silenced me slackened. My teeth found purchase and I bit into a finger. A gruff voice issued a profanity in a language foreign to my ears. I spit out the blood and drew breath to yell, but was silenced by a blow to the back of the head. All went black.
When I woke, I was greeted by the grey pre-dawn light. A blinding pain followed closely by nausea overwhelmed me, and I turned my head as my innards ejected the last meal I had shared with my friends. My senses returned and I realised that I was lying in a boat, with my hands and feet tightly bound. I could see the boots and legs of many men sitting on chests, rowing rhythmically as they hummed a tune.
They paid me no heed, until a big man approached, weaving through the rowers. His wore a long-sleeved woollen tunic tied in at his waist with a broad leather belt on which hung my dagger. The skin of a brown bear was draped around his shoulders like a cloak. His near-white blonde hair was braided, as was his beard. Silver armbands decorated his upper arms, which bulged with muscle. He seemed strangely familiar but I could not place him, until he spoke mockingly in Greek. “Greetings lord. I see that you are awake.”
It was Valr, the giant guard of the amber trader Philemon.
It was obvious that he found joy in my confusion. “My employer, Philemon, is the one who sells the goods stolen by Demetrius. They are business partners.” He paused for effect. “It was Demetrius’s idea that you should be taken as a hostage and exchanged for his life. We were about to enter the tent and slaughter all while they slept, but then the gods intervened and you came to us.” Again he grinned like a bard weaving an amusing tale.
“But now I know that Philemon is involved”, I replied. “And I will not hold my tongue”, I added foolishly.
Valr smiled a thin smile. “My employer is long gone, boy.” He gestured with his hand. “He slipped away during the night, upriver into Longobardi lands. But he left a message for your Greek. Your life for the life of Demetrius.”
Stranger from Another Land Page 4