Adalwulf: The Two Swords (Tales of Germania Book 1) (39 page)

“He is gone. What was left is nothing. Just bones.”

She got up, and buried her face on my chest, weeping painfully, so hard I feared she would break. “He died so happy,” she cried. “He died after a day of joy, getting better from a cough. I prayed to the gods, like any mother would. I beseeched them to make him better, and they answered, didn’t they? He was better. He was running around the house, giggling at the dog that tried to nip at his heels, excited and terrified, and he was so small.”

“And then, he died,” I said sadly, and she took a deep breath and nodded, her sobs nearly at an end. She clutched my tunic hard, and then stroked my chest.

“They
all
did. All of them. I don’t understand it. Why was I spared? I tried to wake them, and him especially. But he didn’t wake up that morning,” she whispered. “I took him to my arms, and he lay there, limp, cold, the mischievous smile still on his face, and his eyes were open, as if he was playing a prank on me. I wept, and took him to the woods, where I begged Frigg for mercy, but the lady didn’t help. I nearly froze to death, hoping I would, until Hulderic found me. I don’t know how long I had sat there. They lifted him into that tree with my husband and mother, ready for burial in the spring. Hulderic took care of me, and I endured, and later that winter, when I went there—”

I breathed. “Raganthar found you.”

She held her face. “He found me,” she whispered. “He was dangerous, like an animal, enemy to my lord, I knew, but he promised me things, and gods know I believed him.”

“Still?” I asked her. “Do you think he could have delivered on his promise?”

“I …” she said softly. “I should not. I do not. I don’t know.”

I stroked her hair. I don’t know for how long as we sat in the silence. I forced myself to ask more questions. “Did you ever hear them deal with King Vago?”

She shook her head. “They mentioned the King, but they didn’t seem to deal with him directly. They had a patron in Burbetomagus who they worked with. I stayed in a house in the woods, where they kept most of the cows and horses of the Brethren, in a well-hidden place. Raganthar didn’t take me to the Den much. But he mentioned a name, a man who was a go-between.”

“I need to find Raganthar,” I told her. “And this man.”

“For the sword,” she asked softly.

“For that, and my cousin, and for you,” I breathed. “I need to make a widow out of you.”

She nodded and smiled uncertainly, clutching my arm. “He’ll die.”

“Raganthar? I hope so. There is no cure for death,” I told her evenly.

Her eyes filled with tears again, and with shame. “I’m not ready for you. I betrayed you. I’m to be blamed for much. I told them everything about Hulderic, his plans, and his men. I helped Bero with that Chatti lie. That cost you a relative. I
stabbed
you. How could I just suddenly be someone you trust?”

“You didn’t tell Raganthar I survived in the hall of Teutorigos, did you? That was—”

“I’m not well,” she whispered.

I looked way and cursed the gods for their wanton cruelty. But I knew she was also right. She
wasn’t
ready. Neither was I. “I know. But you lost a son, and I cannot claim to know what you went through. Are going through. I’ll never know, will I? I hope I never will. Hulderic will help heal you. He will forgive you. And I can wait.”

She smiled sadly. “I have a hunch you will always love women who are troubled, or not destined for you, Adalwulf.”

I stroked her face. “I suspect you are right. Will you help me?”

She grimaced with pain and lay down, keeping my hand in hers. I felt Marcus was near, and turned to see him there by the door, his eyes calculating and neutral. I suspected I’d pay for the show of affection somehow. I could hardly tell Tiberius I didn’t care for Gisil. I turned back to her. Her lips were trembling. “You sure he cannot—”

“He is a liar. A crazy, lying and evil man. You
have
to let go. I’ll help you, in fact, by killing the bastards. Tell me where to find them?” I pleaded. “I need a name.”

She nodded, letting go of her boy with a huge internal struggle. “They were to go south, to the Mediomactri lands, for payment. There is a city, Vangione capital. Burbetomagus.”

“Where King Vago lives,” I whispered, coaxing her. “I know. I’ll go there. And this man? Their go-between?”

She was nodding. “City of Two Rivers, they call it. One cold, one warm. There they met with the man. Yes, the man was called …Clodius. In a temple of … Mercury?”

“Clodius,” I said, and knew Marcus had heard it all. He shifted in the shadows and left. I heard his footfalls recede, and I sat there with Gisil as she slept, well into the night, until a guard finally stepped in, and I knew I’d have to leave her. I got up, and put her hand on her chest, and saw she was breathing well. I begged gods to heal her, both in the mind and the body.

***

I stood waiting for Tiberius the next morning. He was by his desk, talking with a man who looked like a messenger. I felt weak as a kitten, but suspected I had no time to rest. I saw my gear in a heap by the doorway. I smelled trouble, by the way Marcus avoided looking into my eyes, standing on the side as if he wanted to be overlooked. There were also a number of alert guards in the room. Tiberius turned from a messenger and walked to me. He looked tired, his eyes red-rimmed. “So, one Clodius.”

“Indeed,” I said.

He crashed on his seat and rubbed his face. “Burbetomagus belongs to us.” He kicked a chalice by the chair, and it clattered past me, startling a dog. “But also to King Vago, a sworn enemy of the Marcomanni,” he stated. “We have soldiers there, but no one important. And we cannot afford to make the Vangiones an enemy. No need to give the Gauls reason to think a rebellion might actually succeed. Some try, but with Germani leading them? Gods know how far that war would echo. So, we have to be careful.”

He sat and stared into a place only he could see, until I lost patience.

“So, have you figured it out?” I asked him.

“What?” he asked, startled and groaning as he arched his back.

“What you plan to do with me, and how you will deal with Vago?”

“You’ll go there, and find Clodius,” he stated simply. “And then I can prove what I
think
has happened here. How they knew who I was, included. I have a filthy hunch.”

I didn’t really care. “And then I can leave with Gisil,” I said, and saw it wasn’t so simple.

He looked like he had eaten a bit of rotten fish. “You’ll serve me after, Adalwulf. You’ll leave, but you’ll serve me.”

I stood my ground, and glowered at him, wondering what this service meant, and how he would make sure I kept serving him, if I left with Gisil.

And then it came to me. I shook my head at him. “No. You are keeping her.”

His steely eyes flashed and congratulated me. “You will find a Roman noble is a man hard to call a friend, and perhaps you never will. But I need men like you. My brother, Drusus, shall as well, and, yes, Gisil will stay with us. She will stay with us until your service is complete, and I will determine when that will be. She will travel with us, serve us, and no man shall touch her, because I hate rapists and masters who misuse their servants and slaves. One day, she will be free. But not for years.”

“She is your
slave
?” I asked, growling dangerously.

“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly, and the guards took a step forward. Tiberius lifted his hand, and they stopped. “Was she not a slave to this Raganthar? She is not going to be any safer when she goes home, is she? By the looks of things, she knows much about this Bero and the intrigues of your homeland. How many have died in this strange affair?”

“Many,” I hissed, holding my peace, but only barely.

Tiberius bent forward to look me into my eyes, as if trying to mesmerize a wild animal. “She’ll be a slave. She’ll be invisible. But she won’t labor. She won’t toil overmuch. She is safe. She will be safe to heal from her terrors, from her losses. She’ll be treated well, and Marcus here will keep an eye on her. She will heal, Adalwulf, in ways she might never mend in your lands. And you shall serve me, half because you are grateful to me, and half because you love her, and do not wish to see her come to harm.”

“I am to be grateful to you?” I asked, incredulous. “You are--” I stopped myself from calling him mad.

He snorted as he saw my struggle. “Like a tamed wolf you are. Barely able to stop from biting my head off. Listen. I’m your patron. It is no easy service, but I don’t have many men I’d trust. You should accept this as a blessing. I am one of the highest men in the lands of Rome. With me, you shall always have a sanctuary. You will have a patron who shall heed your needs. Be grateful.”

“I’ll be—” I began.

He slapped his hand on the desk. “You’ll be grateful
later
. Sign that.” He pointed towards the table, where there was a clay tablet. Marcus moved next to it, looking neutral and unapologetic, but I sensed he disapproved of what was going on. I stepped forward with stiff legs.

I had no choice.
Would I be grateful, later?
I’d have to see.

I bent over and took the stylus from Marcus, who tapped the tablet. “This details your service to Tiberius, and the circumstances of your agreement,” he said softly. “The lord wants to have his deals written down.”

I nodded. It would condemn me, should I ever step from the path and try to renege on his deal. Marcus let me sign the scroll, which I did with a clumsy scratch. I moved away from it, and Tiberius nodded for my gear.

“There will be coin a plenty, a fine horse, a legionnaire chain mail, a sword, a shield, and that murderous weapon of yours. You will dress well, and be content. You will get me Clodius. Find him, find proof, and kill Raganthar for me, if possible.”

I nodded and hesitated. I thought about it, thought about how I might succeed, and Woden must have despaired. I had no Ingrid to speed my thinking. I had no Danr, or Iodocus to rely on, and so I’d have to arrange my own victory. I’d have to face Raganthar. I’d have to pass his shield. I’d probably have to face Leuthard. How would I ever conquer them? I looked at a slave, who was wiping the floor. She was sweating, and slapped a rag over her shoulder to wipe her face. The wet rag slapped to her back, making a wet stain on the cotton tunic, not unlike blood.

That stopped me. Perhaps Woden was on my side. I thought of the old man in the cave, and how he had told me to cheat. I thought of Tiberius, a patron who said he had my back, and so, I had an idea. “I won’t need the horse. I’ll need some other things.”

“Ask Marcus, he will arrange it all,” he answered and cocked his head. “And if you survive, you will spend some years with Hulderic. If you still love the woman after I release you from the Marcomanni, you will find me in Rome. In the meantime, you’ll be visited, no matter where you are, and you’ll send me oral reports on what’s going on in the lands of the Marcomanni.”

“You want me to spy on Hulderic?” I asked him thinly.

He chuckled. “Ah, the Germani honor. Yes. Occasionally, we might have questions about the Marcomanni, the Quadi, the Chatti, whatever we might need to know, Adalwulf. There are plenty of men like you out there, and the Marcomanni do the same here. It is filthy service, but I shall not ask you to murder anyone.” He hesitated. “At least not now. But be prepared for many things. We all love honor, but there are many ways to achieve it. I think you will see that, eventually.”

I bowed to him, anger simmering in my heart. “So be it. But let us see about that later. Getting this Clodius might mean my life.”

His eyes glittered. “It might. That Leuthard?”

“Yes, lord,” I said, feeling bitter rage. “He is out there. And Raganthar.”

He shook his head. “Make sure you have a plan. And make sure,” he said pointedly, “that capturing Clodius is the first thing you do. I’ll allow you to try to regain that sword for Hulderic, but that comes after my business is secured. Plan well.”

“I have one,” I told him, and I did. “I’ll speak to Marcus.”

He got up and walked away, and I heard his voice as he mounted the stairway, the dog following him. “Go, and bring me Clodius. I’ll need him, because I doubt Vago originated this plot.”

He already knew who wanted him dead
, I thought.

I turned to armor myself under the watchful eyes of the Roman guards, the magnificent bastards. Leuthard would be out there, waiting. Raganthar would, too. I wanted to sit with Gisil a bit, until the evening. Before that, I’d need some things, and pulled Marcus with me. “Listen.”

I
rested that evening with Gisil, while Marcus made arrangements. Then, in the very late hours, I made my way to the river. I took a boat from the edge of the town. It was a Roman navis lusoria, sleek, light, fast, and a bit precarious, in comparison to the clinker-built boats the Germani use. Men from the Alps, mercenaries of the Vindelici tribe who were a powerful looking lot, like small bears rowing the boat, manned it. The bearded, scarred man leading them, the trierarchus, was called Issa. He was busy with the ship, so I sat on the deck like a lost puppy, while the men rowed and bantered. I wore a hood pulled down over my face and thought about Gisil. She was as safe as she could be. Now, I served Hulderic, Balderich,
and
Tiberius, and loved a mad woman who was married to my enemy.

And I’d fight them. One more time. I felt weak as a kitten, a bit feverish, nauseous, and I hurt all over. The future didn’t look too bright.

And what then? Should I survive?

I was expected to go back to Hulderic, and live with the Marcomanni I had already hurt badly in battle. I had killed many of them, maimed more than a few, and there would be many a feud waiting for me. Had I found a place for myself? A home? With Hulderic?

Yes, perhaps. Hulderic would protect me. He had treated me well. He was that sort of a lord. Service with him would be honorable. It would be just.
I
was the one with the secret. I’d be a traitor. Tiberius would be there, lurking in the shadows, waiting.

I shook my head.

No, there would be no home with Hulderic. Time with him would be a stop, a short break from my wanderings. It would be like a warm summer day during winter, unexpected, short-lived, perhaps happy, and then I’d move on, hopefully without having to hurt my host on the commands of Tiberius. My home was with Gisil. It would be years, if ever, when I’d feel like I had found a home, and that could only happen when she was near. I felt troubled. I loved her. Perhaps I’d love others, but always her, in the end, unable to forget her. I could try. I could try to find someone like Ingrid. I would try.

But Gisil was the one.

Years. It would take years to be home.

I suspected Gisil was right. I had a habit of choosing the harsh, rubble-laden track.

But then, I’d probably die in a day. It was not likely I’d survive.

I slept fitfully, and woke when a man of the crew served me food, cold gruel, venison, and mead. The going was slow, even with Mani casting light on the river. I could see the faces of the men, and none thought highly of me for the risk they endured by rowing in the middle of the night. I sat and slept there on the deck, eying the forests and hills slip past, waiting to reach my destiny. When it was almost morning, the ship moored in a small cove, half-filled with reeds, and we slept a few hours under the roof of a rich merchant lord. We moved on, the ship struggling through some rapids, carefully, slowly, as there were ships rowing the other way.

Issa sat down after the ships had disappeared, and looked at me with question. “So. We are soon there. Time to have a chat. What do you know of Burbetomagus?”

I shrugged. “King Vago, Vangiones, share it with the Mediomactri? Not much more. I hear there are two rivers, one that runs away from Rhenus, other that runs into it.”

He spat overboard, but didn’t quite make it. Frowning at the failure that had spattered on the deck, he nodded towards south. “You know enough, then. Do not annoy the Gauls. They’ll be unhappy if you try to bully them. We own the city, or Rome does, but it is far from peaceful. Don’t flaunt your Roman authority, at least if you are alone in a dark alley. But I’ll help you. We have been given orders, and so we shall serve as well as we can. We need to find that man, and the rest comes after, got it?”

“I’m fully aware,” I snarled, and he smirked and placed a hand on my shoulder.

He smiled widely, enviably white teeth shining. “I was asked to make sure you remember. When we get there, let me do the talking, eh? You do the planning bit,” he said, and eyed my new chain mail. “Suits you.”

“You serve Tiberius as well?” I asked him dubiously. “He trusts you, I take it?”

He shook his shoulders. “We come from Vindelica, a few from Pannonia. I met Tiberius when they herded the tribes mercilessly across the valleys and murdered most everyone. He spared my son, who had fought him bravely. So, yes, I serve him when he comes this way. Otherwise we are stationed with the Classis Pannonica, in River Danubius, but he has a use for us, and likes to have men he knows near. I know Rhenus River quite well.”

“Can you fight on land?” I asked him. “Or do you only carry men to battle?”

He gave me a blank stare. “They tell me you are a mad fighter? One of those who risk everything, and often gain nothing but a sword in a gut? We’ll show you how to do it properly.” He flashed me a ferocious smile. “Sailors make the best of fighters, boy. They’d do anything to get back to their ships rich. We’ll do well enough. Wait, and stay unseen, eh? Don’t make a fuss of yourself in Burbetomagus. Rome rules, but not all the time. Remember.”

My fingers ran across the gladius I had received from Marcus. I tugged at the chain mail. There was one more item he had procured, and I hoped it would help me when I met Raganthar. I made sure it was secure around my chest.

I hoped we were not too late.

Clodius.

Raganthar had met him days ago in Burbetomagus. I’d be discreet indeed, as Issa asked me to be, but I had no time to take my time. I tapped the scroll in my pouch, with the seals of Tiberius, and knew few men would dare to deny me help,

We rowed until Sunna was getting low, and I knew we would be close to Burbetomagus very soon, because the land began to fill with villages and roads, and these roads were better built. Then, Issa pulled my hand, and grunted, and pointed a finger at some lights. “There, friend. There is Burbetomagus.”

I nodded and stood up. Torches flared in a large town. It was nothing like the hamlets of our home, and while Mattium was a great oppidum with thousands of people, Burbetomagus was fortified and twice the size, dwarfing my home and Hard Hill together. I squinted as I saw there was a low hill, and on top of the hill, a compound, which was likely King Vago’s home. There, just outside the town and clearly isolated, was also a Roman castra, small, but deadly looking with stone towers, torches flaring and lighting up the thick timber walls. I saw rivers surrounding the town, going to and from Rhenus River.

And then I saw a temple outside the city.

It must have been a temple. Our gods demanded blood and sacrifices, prayers and idolization, but Roman gods demanded riches. Those riches were evident in the magnificent construction that was the temple of Mercury. It wasn’t very large, but the high, triangular roof was held high by wooden and stone pillars, all lit by torches and cauldrons. Wide stone steps led to a maze of such pillars, and a high façade of carved stone shadowed the steps. I thought I saw small statues guarding the temple from top of the façade, looking down at people who would visit it. It was outside the town, beyond the castra, only just, and there were throngs of people standing around it.

“Religious procession?” I asked Issa.

“Whores, lord,” the man said, snorting. “Best place for business, under the eyes of the god of trade, of riches. And soldiers have money, merchants as well, and anyone wishing to be seen as a Roman supporter goes there to pray. Most natural place to find company for a price.”

“I’ll be one, I guess,” I said. “That’s where I go.”

“You’re too pretty, my Marcomanni friend,” Issa laughed. “The girls will think you hope to take their clients.”

I chuckled, and realized I had not laughed since Iodocus told me he had slept with our hostess before I had. Issa clasped a hand on my shoulder. “The lads will wish to
pray
as well,” the man said lecherously. “We will all visit it, and you are one of us, because we are religious lot, aren’t we? You’ll start working, and let us know what you find.”

The men laughed, and it was clear why they would happily visit the place, and that was fine with me. “I’ll find a man.”

“Oh,” he answered, bewildered.

“Not sure what kind,” I muttered. “Gaul, Germani, or even Roman?”

“Each to his own taste, I suppose,” he answered, looking at me suspiciously.

I cursed and pushed him. “Clodius.
The
man. He’s the man we have to find.”

“Oh, I’m relieved,” he said with a grin, spat, and moved away to yell at a man near the pier.

It took a lot of time, but we finally found a place for the boat, and we moored. We were greeted by a sleepy harbormaster, and waited in the pier as many slaves were carrying vases and pulling bennas, wagons, past us. There were slaves working on readying ships, guards with tall spears looking on, bored to death, and people preparing a small market for the morning. Issa paid something to the official, speeding our process. The crew, minus those few cursing unlucky ones who would guard the ship, piled to the harbor, where Issa met another official. We waited for him to deal with that and when he did, he had a sour look on his face.

“Robber. I brought him a perfectly illegal load of Falernian stolen from the army, and he dares to complain he already had a similar load the day before. But he paid, even if I had to threaten to tie him to an oar. We move on. We’ll row away when Adalwulf is ready. May he be successful soon, or we stay here until our toenails turn yellow. Hercules help his sorry, bony ass.” He pushed me along. “Let’s get some food and girls, and you go and find this …man of yours.”

We walked past warehouses, took to an alleyway where cats lived in quarrelsome co-existence, meowing like mad spirits, and the crew, laughing and anticipating pleasure of unimaginable stature, were in a great mood. We passed the gates to the city, manned by bored Roman and a drunk Vangione guard, who blithely ignored each other.

The gates were tall, thick and wooden, and the walls, where men walked, were seven feet high. We skirted the wall, and took more alleys towards the castra, and passed it. I could not help but stare at it. It was the first Roman fort I had seen. It was a powerful looking monster, much more intimidating than Mattium’s walls, or the tower in the village. There were guards on those walls as well, a deep fossa, high earthen walls, and stone walls before and on top of that.

Then we saw the Temple.

The roof, I noticed was far less intricate than I had thought, but it did demand respect, and gods would be watching, I thought, when I’d enter. The pillars flickered with the burning lights as the evening deepened towards the night, and the whole structure was oddly disquieting, holy and powerful, and at the same time felt somewhat disgraced, due to the number of people making merry amongst the pillars.

Issa pulled me around. He pointed a finger where a well-lit, low building stood amongst some trees. “The Oil Lamp. A tavern. Seedy bit of shit, but that is where much of the business is conducted. You know what business. You do your bit, and me and the boys shall be there, waiting, hoping you will not drag our asses needlessly from the girls and the wine, but as lord Tiberius asked, we shall do our best to help you. I’ll make sure they don’t drink too much, never fear. They are ready with their spears. All kinds of spears,” he winked. Indeed, they were all armed to the teeth, some had spears, and all had axes, and pugiones, Roman daggers, and looked like proper fighters. “Be careful,” he told me, and I nodded nervously.

“Thank you,” I told him, and as if I had uttered a password for paradise, they all whooped and ran to chase girls, many of whom pointed fingers at the bearded alps men, knowing them, their ability to pay, and some to love. The girls yelled greetings, ran to embrace the men, and I was left as alone as a piss-sodden drunk in a feast, and then there was rain.

It began to trickle down, making the braziers flutter.

I walked forward, looking at the place in awe. I saw there was a fairly large walled enclosure, and inside that, there were fluttering curtains, braziers with burning wood, slaves walking about lazily. I decided to enter, walking to the bottom of the temple and made my way up the steps for the door. I now noticed other people walking around the temple, slowly and reverently, apparently giving sacrifices for the god of trade.

The god was sitting in the hall.

I had never seen such a sight. It stopped me in my tracks. Our gods were crafted in wood, occasionally some vitka created a doll they hung from a branch to ward off wrongdoers, but a statue twice the size of man? Never. It was sitting there, at the end of the room, a hunched, dangerous looking man with a beard, his eyes empty, muscles well-toned. It was a thing made of stone, and I could not imagine who managed to craft something like that.