Maroboodus: A Novel of Germania (The Goth Chronicles Book 1) (23 page)

Agin’s face brightened with shock and realization. ‘He is right.’

‘What?’ she asked furiously. ‘I’ll not strip before you mongrels.’

‘Take my cloak,’ he said, ‘and do it in the bushes. Discreetly. If they try to peek, I’ll play dice with their eyeballs.’

‘You—’

‘Do it,’ I chirped and the Saxons laughed gutturally. ‘We are in a hurry.’

‘Fine,’ she whispered, and Agin gave his cloak to her. She ran off to the bushes, and after some time had passed, she came out, swathed in the woolen thing and she gestured in the direction of the village. Our simple band ran that way while the Svea gathered our clothes, horses, and took off for the north. They were fast, so fast, much faster than we were and they knew the land as they galloped with our well-wishes, hoping they would drag Bero’s hounds after them like a bloody haunch of a cow would attract wolves. They were rubbing our clothes on trees as they went, and the dogs would know.

Agin snorted as he saw my lingering look. ‘Don’t worry, my adeling. They will lead the Goths on a merry chase. I’ll start gathering men from the villages, and we will see them off for good if they come this way. I should be able to collect hundreds, given a few days. For now, this is good.’

‘I thank you, Agin,’ I told him with respect and bowed.

He shook his head. ‘So, you and Saxa.’

‘It seems so,’ I said, looking at her back, wishing to see her face.

‘You are Hulderic’s son, no?’ he asked wryly.

‘I am—’

‘You are,’ he said. ‘Never thought his son would rescue my sister from Saxons,’ he eyed Ceadda like a fox would look at an unwary mouse, ‘and then come here with some Saxons, hoping to marry her, and more.’

‘More?’ I said dreamily. ’I came this way because I grew tired of being the plaything for my relatives. I wanted to make my fortune, to become a ring-giver, a warlord, and help my father overcome those relatives who would harm him. And perhaps also—’

‘To rule over your father,’ Agin smiled.

That bothered me, but I didn’t deny it. ‘Perhaps in the future?’

‘Or sooner,’ he chortled. ‘I know Saxa told you it is so with me as well.’

‘It is true,’ I admitted. ‘Partly so.’

He chuckled. ‘She is a Svea princess. You, a Goth adeling. Rarely have there been two people more tied into plays of power. You have been sitting in the back row, seeing how things will unfold but never quite able to affect the future to their liking. She has sat on her father’s counsels, our father’s counsel, that is,’ he said, looking miserable with the fact, ‘for a decade. He considers her precious; all his family has a role to play in his games. But more, he is a Thiuda of our clans. Father’s been plotting with a Goth to kill your father and Bero the Crow.’

‘And to kill Hughnot, as well,’ I said.

He agreed. ‘Him. Others, later. There are many Goths to the south of us. This Boat-Lord hates you rogues as much as we do.’

‘The Crow?’ I smiled. ‘Bero? He does look like a crippled little bird.’

‘He does,’ Agin smiled wolfishly, proud to have named my uncle, but sobered and went on. ‘I’m curious where the Saxons were taking her. Father had agreed to marry her.’

‘To the Boat-Lord,’ I said. ‘Our enemy.’

‘Likely so,’ he agreed. ‘But the Saxons came and took her.’

‘Cuthbert would have sold her to the Lord. He smelled coin and riches,’ I said. ‘Learnt of the deal from his spies.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ he said though he wasn’t convinced. ‘Yes, we all have spies all over the place. Mine died in Marka this past year. Snot. Shitting disease. But I thank you. You saved her from a Saxon, then from a Goth and I think, my Lord, that as an adeling of the least loved son of formerly great Friednot and not a very famous young Goth, you saw in her more than a lovely smile. You saw your future in the bosom of her love, and a way out of your dilemmas. Make an enemy an ally, marry high, defy your relatives, and raise yourself above all of them.’ He was nodding. ‘You saw love and power, and I salute you. No, worry not. I doubt you not. I see you have real feelings for her. And if you don’t,’ he said and leaned close to me. ‘I’ll cave your skull in.’

I gave him a wry smile. ‘Is it true,’ I asked, ‘that marriage to her can give me the power to decide on the matters of the Goths? I love her like people love summer.’

He gazed at me, shrugged, and finally, after a long moment of contemplation, ‘You sound like a moonstruck calf, an utter fool, but I’ll allow it since you are a fool for her. And yes, she can give you spears. If I allow it. It’s time to change things, though, she is right in that. The northern clans care little for our troubles here in the south, but there are perhaps ten Svea lords who decide on things around here, and Father’s been trying to subvert the four highest ones to his side. He has promised them Goth lands, to be shared with Goths, as I told you. He has been dealing with the Boat-Lord. Three chiefs follow me. The rest change their mind as often as the wind changes, and if we can topple Father, then we can indeed have a profitable alliance and settle these lands for the benefit of all.’ He smiled as he gazed at me. ‘And you will know that we will want to have a piece of the coast again. It’s not negotiable. Long-Lake is where we dip our toes into the sea, but we want access to the trade, and that means the coast.’

I smiled. There we were, dividing lands. It was intoxicating, making plans like that. It was better than the beadiest of wines.

‘Boat-Lord,’ I said, ‘wants the land as well. We will have a war on our hands, even after we settle the scores with my family.’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve no doubt you are right. This Boat-Lord sent men here last year. I never saw any Goths of this Boat-Lord in Snowlake, because I didn’t go, and Father, Gislin merely informed the absent chiefs this marriage would take place. He told me like that, probably happy I’d suffer because I love my sister well. Then the Saxons came,’ he said and eyed the men with hostility, ‘and took her. Now she is to marry a Goth. You see why I’m feeling an itch for my ax, but I’m happy to see you are much like us. And that you Goths squabble like the Svea do. Of course, you do, but it’s fine to see it in the form of an exiled Goth adeling, chasing after my sister,’ he told me, amused. ‘We have been losing far too many times in battle to your people.’

I braved a question. ‘Since Saxa and I plan to rule—’

‘You are children,’ he reminded. ‘Dreaming of war. Not all dreams come true, just remember that. We shall try, but gods will decide.’

I went silent, dragging my feet, hoping to refute him, but he was right. We were children in the art of rulership, but he was also wrong. ‘The heroes the poets sing of?’ I said, and he cocked an eye at me. ‘The ones who sit by the gods in their golden halls? Were they old when they decided to change things? They carved vast lands for themselves with war. They were young when they began. Those songs began from dreams like ours.’

He gave me an uncertain eye and smiled. ‘I almost went to my knees before you, mighty Maroboodus, since you dream so high the gods would tremble at your greed. And I give you a hint. The songs and poems are mostly paid for by men who did terrible things to reach that far. They sit in their seats, listen to liars like him,’ he thumbed Aldbert’s way, ‘and smile benevolently at the flattery, but some part of their minds will always reel under the weight of betrayed men, foully slain enemies, burnt halls with babies and women, and broken oaths. I’ve never become so high as I wanted, just one of the warlords around these woods, because I am honorable.’ He looked at me uncertainly and brooded as he looked away. ‘I have a hunch you and Saxa will rule us all, but will you ever be truly happy? I know not.’

‘Aldbert,’ I said, ‘how many times do you lie when you make a song of a hero?’

He walked on behind us, uncomfortable in his nakedness, reacting ridiculously to the stinging twigs under his bared feet, but finally shrugged. ‘Mostly.’

‘If you made a song about me, would you lie?’ I asked.

He frowned. ‘Would you like people to know how I dug that hole?’

Agin didn’t know about the hole, but he did chuckle, and I frowned. Then I shook my head stubbornly. ‘I’d not feel bad about the lies, if the purpose serves greater good.’

Agin chortled. ‘You should, no matter what you build. But yes, I’ll help you two. I have power. Father and I split up, but as I said, at least three chiefs follow me, some others will come to our side. It will be an even struggle. And while father has a great following, he has been a ruler for a long time, many of the smaller Chiefs hate him. Father has enemies, and men often look at me to solve an issue he has caused. Should there be a high Goth on our side, be that a youngster like you, married to a grand lady like Saxa? It will probably ruin Father’s plans. It will bring us followers. It will mean men will die here, instead of in the lands of the Goths,’ he said and frowned, ‘but next year we might solve the issue between Father and me, and then we shall solve our issues with the Goths, and men will die there as well until everyone is sated, eh? Hope you can stomach seeing a shieldwall of Goths falling under our attack. It will cost you a lot, though. The coast, parts of it. Perhaps Marka.’

‘I’ll stomach it. There will be Goths in our shieldwall as well,’ I said dubiously. ‘We will change things.’ Back then, I believed it was possible, to build a nation of Svea and Goths, and Agin looked severe as he stared at me.

‘You are surprisingly steady and dedicated, Maroboodus. I think we will try to build something out of this mess, indeed. And Father did lose many men of his warbands. Fifty splendid men are gone thanks to the Saxons. He was well weakened this past summer by that lot.’ He nodded at Ceadda and leaned on me. ‘Do I
have
to give the murderous bastards a ship?’

I chortled at his outraged tone. ‘Give them a fair boat, but do give them one. A fast one. They have kept faith with us, and they only followed Cuthbert as oaths men do. We could have made it here on our own, probably, but they helped us along like oath-bound men should.’

He chortled. ‘They were your hope of escape if I turned out to be less than amicable? Yes?’

‘Yes,’ I agreed.

‘In that case,’ he said, ‘I’ll marry you tonight and send them on their way when the Goths are gone, with weapons and a boat fast enough to make them cry with joy. Tomorrow, we shall send the Goth bastards on their merry way, chase off your Crow Bero and begin to plan for the Spring, and we will decide on many things during this winter.’ He eyed me and asked a question. ‘Will Hulderic, your father, help us?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said glumly. ‘But perhaps he shall not stop us, at least. Perhaps he will not fight us. And if Bero and Hughnot are weak and divided and fight each other, then we can see where we shall turn when things have been settled with your father and the Svea lords.’

‘We have the winter to plan, if you can manage to tear yourself from my sister, you Goth mongrel,’ he said and slapped my back with what I took as a friendly gesture, even if I bit my tongue by the force of it.

We marched on, cursing the lack of shoes, and Svea scouts ran back and forth, reporting on Goth movements and finally, as evening arrived and the lazy wolf Hati chased the glowing Mani to the sky, we were rewarded by a chorus of dog barks going far to the north, for the Long-Lake. The sound was ominous, dangerous, and close, but at least the enemy was going the wrong way.

I looked at Aldbert, who nodded, visibly relieved and Saxa and Ceadda gave each other grins. Nothing like the common fear of death to make true enemies the best of friends, I thought.

We hiked the final stretch to the northwest, passed homesteads hidden in small valleys and fields of barley, and arrived at the village.

It was dark, but Mani revealed the shore of the Long-Lake, the surface of the dark water rippling with cold wind, and our teeth were chattering because we had no clothes. There were many fishing boats, some made for war, and Ceadda and Njord were admiring them, the clinker-built things giving them hope to reach their homes one say soon. We were led forward through trails that meandered past tall oaks and thick pines, and earthy, moldy halls nestled in the trees. The village had a name, Wolf Hole, and it felt home-like as we were led to a tall and long building with a yellowed doorway, from which poured the smell of fish and meat and the unmistakable aroma of good ale, and Njord grinned like a wolf indeed, hoping to hole up inside.

There would be a feast.

A wedding feast.

W
e were given woolen tunics and trousers and well-made leather shoes with furry, out-turned insides, and everyone got leather belts that were simple and practical, and the generous Agin waved away our thanks and gave us more. Cloaks of fur were placed in our quarters, and I could tell the Saxons were well impressed by the Svea lord. Ceadda bowed, and when he had done so, Njord leaned on him. ‘Maybe we should ask for some fat cows and even pigs and perhaps precious treasure as well, and swords,’ Njord wondered, but Ceadda pushed him away in disgust.

We were led to the dim main hall of the Svea lord. There, the host of the trading village sat, beaming like a robber god at each of us, happy to have made us respectable. He snapped his fingers and pointed the Saxons and Aldbert to the seats by sturdy oak tables, set around the fire-pit, and the Saxons happily took their places, the fears for their lives gone for a moment. The feast was indeed a small one, and silent; sturdy guards stood or sat in the shadows of the hall, and no local warriors took part in it, which was probably for the best considering the Saxons had not so long ago trekked through the land with less than friendly intentions. Some shaggy hounds were lounging by the fire, their snouts high in the air as they smelled roasting meat, and the Saxons and even Aldbert looked like they did as well, as we were all starving for something cooked. We flinched as a maid snapped her fingers after a cursory glance at the hall, and then slaves carried in food on wooden platters which they expertly left within reach of every man. ‘Eat,’ Agin said dreamily, apparently drowsy and tired by the excitement. ‘There is more. Enough for all, even with the winter coming.’

    ‘Thank you,’ I said, and he nodded me closer. I ambled to sit on a bench near him.

    He smiled and probably thought I was timid. ‘Do I stink, Goth? Or have vomit on my beard? Come closer.’ I got up and walked to stand near him. He went on. ‘I’ve sent out a call to my villages. We will have two hundred men here by the day after tomorrow, and we go and hunt the Goths. It will be glorious, and brief.’ He smiled. ‘Hope you won’t find you love your relatives after all?’

‘I can love them dead just as well as alive,’ I said and nodded, not sure why the words bothered me. I cared little for Bero and Maino, but there were Bero’s men out there as well, and some had treated me well, and while they were enemies whom I had just feared and loathed, not hours ago, they were also mostly good men. I shook my head to clear it of such thoughts, growled away the shame and indecision and nodded at the great Lord gratefully. I looked at Aldbert, who was fidgeting at the end of the table, afraid, as Agin was looking at him. ‘Lord, this is Aldbert, a poet—’

Aldbert surged up and bowed deeply. ‘At your service.’

‘I know he is one. A poet, a Goth poet, used to making songs and poems about Goths killing Svea. Tomorrow you shall make one for our small war with Bero,’ Agin said confidently. I frowned because I knew the Goths were no pushovers, and we didn’t know how many there were out there.

‘I am not sure it will be that easy—’

He waved me silent ‘Oh, don’t give me advice on war yet, Maroboodus. Let us see how you do, first. Sit down here,’ he said and slapped his heavy hand on the bench next to him so hard splinters and dust flew. Aldbert slid back to silence, his eyes full of fear and indecision, but I had to ignore my friend’s strange mood, and I nodded gratefully and sat my rear down.

‘Thank you, Lord,’ I said gravely.

‘No, thank you, young Goth,’ he chuckled and rolled his eyes as the Saxons tore into the meat and gulped down horns filled with ale. ‘Look at them. Murdering scum, but still men I fill with the best food this night. They should be sacrificed to Boar-Lord Freyr, of course, but let them feast here in thanks for their protection of my Saxa.’

I decided to advise him, nonetheless. ‘The Goths you will chase. There will be famous champions, wily warriors, and—’

He chuckled. ‘I know, I have met them in battle, but I know my land as well,’ he said with relish. ‘The Goths will be ready, Maroboodus, I know it. They will have surprises of their own. But we know where they are, and we know what they will do, and there will be powerful warlords on our side, the favor of the gods we know, the spirits and the vaettir speak as we do, and we will have more spears, and that’s what counts. They are like a magnificent auroch, lumbering along, thinking it the master of the woods, but in truth it is not, and the Goths? They are the prey, and we are the hunters, and we will nip their balls. Nothing can change that. I’ll look forward to fighting with your Danr, Eadwine, and Gasto. They have killed many a brother of ours in the past. And this Maino. Your cousin?’ He glanced my way.

‘I wish you success in killing that bastard,’ I said sullenly and showed him the recent wound on my leg from our fight in Marka. It was healing well, thankfully.

‘Oh, his handiwork? Well, that explains what pushed you here, eh?’

‘I beat him, they didn’t reward me,’ I said with a growl and gripped my sword hilt.

Agin slammed his hand on my back while laughing. ‘To imagine, they wouldn’t be here in our woods, hoping to find an errant Goth adeling, had they been fair as gods expected them to be! You will find it hard to see Goths getting hung by our priests for the glory of the boar god, but you will endure it. Saxa is worth it. And so is the future you hope to build. You will be a great Lord and will see even the ones you love die one day.’ His words made me shiver with premonition, but he went on. ‘I said few dreams come true, but let us try to make them real, indeed. We will conquer left and right and grow fat and rich and share blood, Goths, and Svea, and it will do us all good. But we will change, mind you that, Maroboodus.’

‘She is worth it all,’ I said, trying to chase away his words and he saw I needed cheering.

He gave me his mead, his brew, and I drank it down gratefully. Agin smiled. ‘Be happy, rather than a damned soul that worries about tomorrow. I’m sorry if I made you gloomy. Yes, yours is a possible union of two similar minds, but falling in love is a mystery even the Aesir and the Vanir do not understand. Didn’t Freyr give away his sword for his giantess? Yes, he did. Love is as good as the secret of mead, and you shall sample it this night.’ He hesitated. ‘At least young mead. Let it fester for too long and it turns into bad brew indeed, but you’ll see what I mean, if you are unlucky,’ Agin beamed a smile my way. ‘Saxa will not be an easy woman to live with. I’ve known her for a while, you see.’

‘I agree,’ I told him, nervous now as I realized I’d be married in a bit and so I drank down another horn, this time of ale brought to me to steel my nerves. It was instantly filled by a plump woman who chuckled to herself as she eyed me with appreciation.

‘I like a man who can drink,’ she chirped. ‘Have another and forget what Lord Agin is blathering about. He loves despite his fear of marriage.’ I drank the ale down and had it refilled.

Agin chortled. ‘I do fall in love, at least a dozen times a day. Just looking at some young girl can make me sigh with love. It’s terrible, for I’d like to marry one of them one of these days, but then I couldn’t admire the daughters of my warriors. I have time, yet. Now—’

The door opened. A figure entered.

The guards stepped away from it as if it was a harbinger of Hel and it stopped to stare at me. At first, I was not sure if it was a human at all, because some fog entered the hall with it, casting an ethereal blanket around the figure, and even the dogs were on their feet, their tails between their legs. I noticed there was a hank of golden hair pouring from under its hood, and then the hood was pulled back. It had a face, and the head was turned my way, but the eyes looked strangely to the sides. It was looking at me nonetheless, I was sure, and I realized it was a woman. The nose had been broken, some teeth were missing but the skin was smooth, and I decided it was the village völva, seidr-seer, holy woman of Freya, mistress of magic. ‘I was summoned,’ she said, her voice smooth though it was impossible to decide if she was old or young. She wore a seamless tunic of good make, though bloodstains dotted her ample chest and the brooches on her shoulders were glinting redly as well, for some reason. I thought better than to ask, though.

Agin leaned on me. ‘Hild,’ he whispered, ‘was caught by a rival chief in a battle once and left on the field for dead. Father exiled her, because she had told him they would win the battle, and she was wrong. Father hates being wrong. She is crazy, my age, thirty or so, but her face is as broken as her mind. Her eyes don’t function very well, and yet she seems to know where she is going. She will marry you.’

‘No, I was to marry Saxa,’ I said nervously, and Agin and the Saxons laughed hugely while Hild seemed to give me a wry smile. I shook my head and bowed to the great woman. ‘Yes, I see what you meant, I am sorry. I—’

‘Shut up, Goth,’ Agin murmured. ‘Lift your rear up and bow to her, or she will put something uncanny inside your belly, and it will gnaw its way out of there while you weep and wither.’

‘Lady Hild,’ I said, getting up. I bowed her way, and she tilted her head in acknowledgment as she made her way around the Saxons, who were all making near unseen warding signs at her approach. She came to stand before me, grasped my hand with her left hand and put her right on my face. She was cold, and her skin was dry. Aldbert was looking on, clearly distraught, but he didn’t move.

Finally, she stepped back. ‘You are a strange one. An odd one.’ She tilted her head at me. Aldbert was trying to get up.

‘He is just a Goth,’ he said quickly. ‘Nothing to worry about. Really.’

‘I’m a Goth,’ I said, waving Aldbert down. ‘An Adeling. Just a—’

‘Traitor,’ she finished but didn’t judge, as the word was delivered matter-of-factly. ‘A vagabond out for a new world.’ She hesitated and tilted her head. ‘Like a … young bear out in the spring, finding fresh horizons.’

I shook my head, but Agin roared with laughter. Hild looked around the tables. ‘And they are … from the south. I smell it. Salt. Blood. Vermin.’

‘He is a traitor, and they are very loyal vermin, and worthy men at the same time,’ Agin said and gave the Saxons a warning sign they all took quick note of. They relaxed, despite the fact they had been found out.

‘You will not go to Snowlake, then?’ Hild asked softly. ‘To meet Gislin, her father?’

‘They should stay here,’ Agin said. ‘But Saxa knows her duty to Gislin, so perhaps we shall visit it one day soon, eh?’ The threat was not lost on Hild, who cocked her head quizzically and hummed as if seeking answers somewhere none of us could see. Then she leaned forward, and her guttural voice silenced the hall.

‘He will wish to see this man,’ she told me. ‘Gislin. The man who breaks his plans.’

‘He means to court Saxa, not Gislin,’ Njord said mischievously, but went reticent, chomping on his bit of meat as the Svear glanced his way with a clear message that suggested the Saxon was wading in treacherous waters.

‘He will wish it,’ she told me again. ‘But the Spinners shall decide how it goes, eh?’ She looked at Aldbert, who tried not to be noticed, fidgeting with his horn of ale. Finally, Hild looked away from my friend and sighed. ‘Tonight you shall enjoy, yes? You will be married, under the rays of Mani, blessed by Freya, the goddess of love. Where is she?’ Njord bit his tongue before hazarding a guess as to where Freya might be, but Saxa was not far.

She entered. She was wearing a simple white tunic, with bared arms, and bronze fibulae on each shoulder and on her feet there were doeskin shoes. Her hair was glimmering in the light of the shingles, and I cursed my state, as I should have bathed at least. Agin seemed to agree, as he leaned towards me and sniffed experimentally. ‘Pigs are a cleaner lot,’ he said happily, ‘but this pig will marry well tonight.’ Then Saxa saw me, and smiled, her full lips and eyes joining in a look of love, and I nearly fell to my seat, breath caught in my throat. Agin muttered something and gulped down a full horn of mead. ‘She is too good for you.’

‘She is too good for every man,’ I stated confidently. ‘Gods included.’

‘True, probably right,’ Ceadda said from the side with wonder, his previous apprehensions about Saxa gone as he admired the wondrous girl.

The völva’s crooked mouth turned into a smile, and she turned to Saxa. ‘Let’s not tarry, then. The goddess hears, and she will be here only for a short while,’ Hild said reverently. ‘Come here,’ she said sadly and pulled me after her. I stumbled like a man in a daze and Saxa beamed me a smile that would have melted an icy lake and woken up frozen butterflies. I nearly fell over a bench, tried to regain my composure, but I felt entirely detached from the holy ritual about to take place. I noticed my hand was draped over Hild’s shoulders, then she removed my hand and placed it in Saxa’s hand, who was chuckling at me. She held on to me fiercely, and I remember Freya was mentioned many times. I was vaguely aware I was being asked questions about my bravery, my honor, and my fame, some of which I no doubt lied about, but I did not care if it won me the girl next to me, and finally Hild pressed her hands on our cheeks. ‘Is there anyone here who would deny them their happiness?’

A bird flew in.

Everyone saw it, a delicate thing trapped in the hall, but this one stopped to sit on a beam, and stared down at us with near intelligence. It was brown, delicate, but beautiful, and should have been sleeping with others like it, but there it was.

‘I take that as a good sign,’ I murmured to Saxa.