Adalwulf: The Two Swords (Tales of Germania Book 1) (23 page)

He grunted, began to argue, sulked, shook his head and went on grinding. “You eat the gritty bread, lord. You’ll clean, because I doubt our host will do anything more for us. We’ll run the place. As for what you just suggested? Perhaps I heard you. Perhaps I agree. But it’s all situational. If possible, I
might
do this. You just worry about capturing the bastard, if Seisyll has no plan to do so. And I’ll think about it as well. I didn’t like the look on his face in the stables. I’d have archers pierce his skull rather than take him alive.”

I rubbed my face tiredly. “It’s so damned desperate.”

“It is, as desperate an affair as this soon-to-be so-called bread. Gods, I wish we had not made that girl mad,” he cursed. “I’ll get the treasure and hide it, and myself, if things go wrong.”

***

Eventually we ate, waited, and sat in the hut. Elisedd came back that evening, and went about her business. She said nothing, and regarded us as she would her least favorite furniture.

“Look, I—” I began, but she waved me down.

Her eyes were squinted as she regarded me, the disappointment thick in the air as she spoke. “You made your choice. And left me with none. Well, perhaps one.” She smiled at me, and nodded towards the door. “You wait for news, no? I saw a man riding in. He has news. He had some yesterday, and the days before it, but today, he looks shocked. You’ll not like the what he has got to say, hmm?” She tilted her head with mockery. “Wait for it.”

I got up and walked to the door, which I opened ever so gently. True enough, a Celt warrior was in the yard, speaking with Seisyll, and the courier had a bag. The man opened it up for Seisyll, and what was in it, made the Celt lord step back, and spit. He wiped his mouth, saw me staring, and grabbed the bag. He walked towards me, and I stood in the doorway, uncertain and dreading what he had to say. He stopped before me, and looked me up and down. “Bero and Leuthard are back in Hard Hill. There is something going on with them, they say. Leuthard’s war-band has been gathering. So likely, things will take place soon. Very soon.”

My eyes went to the bag. “And that?”

He shrugged. “A price to pay. This was left at the gate. It’s so unusual it has to be tied to these events. No?” He opened up the bag, and I looked inside.

Inside, long, blond hair, with scalp attached. A woman’s hair.

Ingrid.

I was sure of it. I dropped the sack, and Seisyll grabbed it. His eyes betrayed no sympathy, but he stepped away from me as I leaned on the doorway. When I went inside, I sat in a dark corner, holding my head. I didn’t wish to see the gloating, evil eyes of Elisedd. Iodocus went out, despite having been ordered not to, and came back, having found out the reason for my shock. He sat near me, and put an arm around my neck, and I sobbed there. After time had passed, he spoke. “He’ll be here soon. Nobody walks away.”

I raised my eyes, and saw Elisedd hugging herself. She looked nervous, expectant, and outside, far in the hills, a wolf howled.

Leuthard’s message was clear. He was coming, he knew what was waiting, and he’d eat us whole.

M
orning came, and the day passed as I sat, holding my hammer. I waited, and hoped I would endure because my patience was tested and strained to the limits.

I had dreamt again.

Of murder.

In the dream, I had rowed back across the river, and just like some small demi-god of Asgaard, a creature of heroic stories, I had killed men who stood against me, one-by-one, breaking their necks, destroying their halls, breaking their bones. I climbed the hill, filled with the corpses of evil men. By the time I reached the top, I wasn’t sure if
I
was a good or an evil man, being covered in blood head to toe, and loving each kill like a child loves their mother. I had finally spotted Leuthard, sitting on a dark horse.

I was no man.

I knew he wasn’t one either.

We had sized each other up, while I stalked him.

I woke up to the cocks crowing before I could finish the feud, and no matter how hard I tried to slip back to the dream to finish the deed, the cocks crowed again, and I was awakened.

And so, I sat still that day, trying not to imagine how Ingrid had died. Iodocus didn’t say a word. He washed himself, set down to fix food, singing softly, and so the evening eventually arrived. Even Elisedd was mostly sitting in the corner, wringing her hands, waiting.

The news would come soon, I knew, and I hoped it would speak of a warband that was to come that very evening and night for us.
We had the men
, I thought,
and I’d make my dream come true.
Seisyll had plans. I’d trust them, and Iodocus would secure our lives by taking back the coins, if he could. But I would take Leuthard, and I’d beg to see how he dies, when the time finally came.

Elisedd’s head shot up.

Then, she was standing and cocking her head. She was also smiling. “Something is coming,” she said excitedly.

She was right, though we couldn’t imagine what made her so happy.

There was a strange change in what were the normal sounds of the village. Iodocus stood up, and so did I. We rushed to the door, our hearts pounding, and knew something extraordinary was taking place. It was an uneasy silence. We were like birds, sensing a calamity in advance. Nobody was making a sound. No men were speaking, no women laughing, even if Sparrow’s Joy had already led a subdued life those past days. The silence was near total. The flat hilltop had shut up, as if struck by a god’s hammer, and then there was a horse whinnying, men shouting. I knew the gate, a fenced, spiked thing, was being dragged aside by the creak, a voice we had grown accustomed to. I shrugged at Iodocus. “
Someone
is coming. Not something. Is it the man who brings the news?”

Iodocus shook his head nervously. “Someone is coming, indeed. God Taranis be damned, but they cannot fool you, my friend,” he said. “You know this is something different,” he added, and opened the door. We pushed each other in our desperate hurry to witness what was taking place. We spied Seisyll walking through a cluster of round houses and gardens for the fence, where the lord bowed stiffly the minute the doorway opened.

In rode Roman.

“Shit,” Iodocus whispered. “Shit, fuck us. I thought there should not have been any patrols for weeks?”

But there was.

It had to be a Roman, as he didn’t look anything like the Celts or the Germani, and wore a red cape over dusty military splendor. He was a sturdy, clean-shaved, and his skin was slightly darker than ours, his face beautiful as a god’s. There was a sort of a strange, inbred arrogance and confidence in his gestures, and the way he sat on his horse, as if he belonged there, higher than the rest. He held a large, oblong shield loosely on his left arm, and stretched his arm to the side to beacon for Seisyll to approach. We saw scars of battle in his well-muscled forearms and biceps.

And the armor?

Dusty as it was, it was still beautiful. It was a Roman lorica hamata, well made, mended in places, but a supreme piece of armor. Celts had reputedly the finest armor in the world, but they reserved it for their best men, like we did, and Romans armed and armored nearly all their infantry in this manner. He sat on his white horse, and the helmet with transverse crest looked supremely military on him. The helmet had a fabulous dark horse-hair billowing over his shoulders, like he were partly an animal. His caligae were hobnailed and glinted as he guided a thick horse around Seisyll. A gladius hung over his left shoulder by a balteus.

“A centurion,” whispered Iodocus. “Damn centurion. Of all the days. They usually come during midsummer, and escort a publicani, some local shit that has bought the right to collect the taxes. But why are they here now?”

Elisedd pushed us out. We turned to look at her in surprise, but she ignored our looks. The door slammed behind her, and she kept pushing us. Before we could dodge away, the centurion’s eyes had fixed on her. She greeted him shyly, adoringly, and Iodocus and I looked at each other. I resisted grasping her arm, but I didn’t have to accost her. She spoke quite plainly. “Yes, I sent word to the Roman. He came far faster than I thought possible, but he is here, and he hurried because
he
has no qualms taking what he wants. And now, finally, he will take
me
away.”

“The harlot has an affair with that one, as well,” Iodocus murmured, and I knew he was right. I wondered if we should move away, but we had been spotted already. We stood still as hares, because all the others did as well.

The woman had betrayed us. We’d suffer for it.

“What do they want?” I asked her, trying to keep a civil tone, though of course I knew the answer. It was predictable.

“The treasure,” she chuckled. “Of course the coins. And me.”

“You—”

The centurion finally spoke to the chief with a voice that carried across the yard, well-rehearsed to commanding men in battle and out of it. “Seisyll,” he said simply. My crude Celtic was up to the task, because his was as basic as mine. He waved his hand around lazily, and a troop of seven soldiers entered, their helmets dusty from marching, red capes in similarly disheveled condition, but they all looked like deadly professionals, save for one young man, a recruit, no doubt, who seemed a step behind the others.

“Oh, this is not good,” said Iodocus. “I know him. That’s a centurion of the vexillation from one of the guard towers, not far from here, close to Moganticum. I’ve seen him around when I was here last year, visiting relatives. He robbed them clean. Didn’t even leave pig-bones on the plate.”

The centurion shifted in his saddle, and Seisyll, handsome, tall warrior looked dwarfed in his glory in comparison to the representative of the true power in the land. “Call out your men.”

“What do you mean?” Seisyll growled, squinting at the centurion.

“The Legate sent us here. He received a complaint, you see,” the centurion said sternly, his eyes glancing in our direction, and I sensed Seisyll was about to be robbed of more than pig-bones.

“What is the … complaint about? We can deal with it on our own, Roman,” Seisyll said bitterly. “You need not manage every simple matter here.”

The Roman grunted, and the legionnaires twitched as they formed a solid rank of steel and red behind his horse. “Now, now. None of that.
Legio I Germanica
is not some fellow tribe for you to banter with. You cannot sit down with us over food and drink, and think we are fooled. We don’t do deals with robbers.”

“Robbers?” Seisyll asked dangerously. 

The Centurion glowered at him. “The Treveri sent a complaint.”

“The dogs
always
complain,” Seisyll said bitterly. “They bark like little pups, and cause mischief. Why believe them?”

The centurion laughed merrily, and shook his head as if to a naughty child. “That may very well be so. They bark and cause trouble. So do you. But that matters not. Every such complaint must be checked out, and so I’m forced to march around like an old horse, solving these silly little troubles. I must. It is my duty. It’s for the good of all. The tensions are high. Treveri and Mediomactri steal and bleed each other, and claim lands. Gods know who is not lying. We want our people to live happily and at peace with each other, and so we must be fair.”

Seisyll chortled incredulously. “Fair?
They
have been taking our lands since forever, Roman!” Seisyll roared, but the Roman was unfazed and spat in dirt.

“Bull’s balls! Shut up!” The men in sight, Gauls tensed at that, but the Romans had killed enough Gauls in their time to make mice of them, and they stayed silent and sullen. The Roman yelled, “I know you have plenty of warriors in this village. More than you should. Call them
all
out!”

Seisyll, his face white with rage, did.

Men streamed from the halls and homes. Hundred, more, and the Roman Centurion’s eyes gauged their mood and arms. It took time, but finally a warband, Seisyll’s own, and those he had brought in from other villages, stood in two separate groups in the middle of Sparrow’s Joy.

“Should we run?” Iodocus asked thinly.

“Try,” Elisedd said with a ferocious grin. “He’ll want to speak with you. And he shall. I’ll scream if you try to flee.”

“You’ll pay for this later,” Iodocus said darkly with a skull-like smile.

“Dreaming, that’s what you are,” she laughed brazenly, but took some steps away from us. Her husband came out of his workshop, and stood there forlornly, and I didn’t look his way.

The Roman eyed the warriors, and the turned to Seisyll with a look that told everyone he’d have to punish the lord. “And you have done nothing, eh? So many men? Waiting for the Treveri to come, and—”

“I’ve done
nothing
to the Treveri! I’ve fought with the Marcomanni!” Seisyll yelled.

The Roman pointed a finger at the warbands. “Which ones live here? Which ones do not?” the Centurion growled.

Seisyll pointed a finger at the ones who did not. “They are visiting.”

“Visiting,” the Roman snorted and guided his horse past the man, stopping before the warband and a tall Celt leading it. “These forty men will leave this place. They will go, and they will go now. Go to your homes, or your villages shall be given to your enemies. We will take you, your wives, children, and they shall be sold to all the corners of the world. And those corners, louts, are far from home.”

The men looked at Seisyll, the threats echoing in the hill, and not one of the men who had been ready to fight for Seisyll against the Marcomanni was willing to risk the Roman’s ire. Seisyll saw this, and nodded subtly. The men turned, and in one huge column, marched away from the gates, scattering. When it was done, only Seisyll’s own men remained, and the Roman smiled.

“And you shall give me all that loot you took from the …Treveri. The truth shall be judged fairly, and the ones who are guilty shall be punished, trust me.” He had the audacity to spice his words with a roguish wink.

I snorted. He’d take it. He’d take it all, hide it and lie, if someone dared to question him, an he’d be rich in his retirement one day.

“My coins? You want my coins?” Seisyll asked him, near the brink of violence.

The Roman didn’t flinch, but knew his limits. He’s steal, but not all of it. “No, not your own. The ones brought in here days past. Yes. I’ll take all of that. I shall need a fair judge on the matter, so I will take it to where it is safe. To Moganticum.” His eyes went to the girl next to us, and Seisyll didn’t miss that look. His face was like a skull as he looked at her, and I knew she had better leave the village if things didn’t go the way she hoped they would.

“You had better hope he takes you with him,” Iodocus stated, having come to the same conclusion.

She said nothing, smiling confidently, and whether she was mad or brave, I wasn’t sure.

The Centurion went on. “We’ll stay here for the night, and I’ll leave in the morning,” he said, bored with the affair. “A sack will go with me. And there had better be everything inside it, Seisyll. Obey, and perhaps some of it will come back to you. Prepare your hall for me, and sleep elsewhere,” he said, and left Seisyll fidgeting, cursing, and then the chief spat, and kicked a dog as he stormed off.

The Centurion turned his head, and rode to us.