Time Patrol (56 page)

"Well, a man fares easiest alone. And earth clings to the boots when blood has made it muddy."

A thrill drove his forebodings from Everard. This was what he'd hoped for, had been working toward since he arrived here two days ago. In many ways the Germans were childlike, unreserved, devoid of any concept of privacy. More than Julius Classicus, who simply displayed his ambitions, Claudius Civilis—Burhmund—yearned to speak into a sympathetic ear, unburden himself to somebody who laid no claims on him.

"Listen close, Janne," Everard transmitted to Floris. "Tell me whatever questions occur to you." In their short but intense time of ready making, he had found she was quick to understand people. Between them they might gain insight, a feel for what was going on and what it could lead to.

"I will," she agreed jaggedly, "but I had better also keep watch on Classicus."

"You fought for Rome since you were a youth, did you not?" Everard prompted in Germanic.

Burhmund barked a laugh. "Aye, and marched, drilled, built roads, barracked, squabbled, diced, whored, got drunk, got sick, yawned through endless dullness—the soldier's life."

"Yet I've heard you have a wife, children, landholdings."

Burhmund nodded. "It wasn't all pack and hike. For me and my close kinsmen, less than for the ruck of the men. We were of the kingly house, you see. Rome wanted us as much for keeping our folk quiet as for soldiering. So we made officer fast, and often got long furloughs when our units were stationed in Lower Germany. Which they were, mostly, till the troubles began. We'd go home on leave, take part in the folkmoots, speak well of Rome, besides seeing our families." He spat. "What thanks our services gained us!"

Recollection flowed from him. The exactions of Nero's ministers had kindled increasing anger among the tributaries, riots broke out, tax collectors and other plague dogs got killed. Civilis and a brother of his were arrested on charges of conspiracy. To Everard Burhmund said that they had merely protested, albeit in strong words. The brother was beheaded. Civilis went in chains to Rome for further interrogation, no doubt under torture, probably to be followed by crucifixion. The overthrow of Nero stalled proceedings. Galba pardoned Civilis, among various goodwill gestures, and sent him back to his duties.

Very soon Otho in turn cast Galba down, while the armies in Germany hailed Vitellius emperor and the armies in Egypt elevated Vespasian. Civilis's debt to Galba almost got him condemned again, but that was forgotten when the Fourteenth Legion was withdrawn from Lingonian territory, taking along the auxiliaries he commanded.

Seeking to secure Gaul, Vitellius entered Treverian lands. His soldiers looted and murdered in Divodurum, Metz to be. (That helped account for the instant popular support Classicus obtained when he rebelled.) A brawl between the Batavi and the regulars could have become catastrophic but was quelled in time. Civilis took the lead in bringing matters under control. With Fabius Valens for their general, the troops marched south to aid Vitellius against Otho. Along the way Valens took large bribes from communities to keep his army from sacking them.

When he ordered the Batavi to Narbonensis, southern Gaul, to relieve beleaguered forces there, his legionaries mutinied. They cried that this would deprive them of their bravest men. The disagreement was composed and the Batavi went on as before. After he crossed the Alps and word came of another defeat for their side, at Placentia, the soldiers mutinied again, this time at his inaction. They
wanted
to go help.

Burhmund chuckled, deep in his throat. "He obliged us."

The two warriors rode from the huts. The Roman was between them, clad for travel. Remounts loaded with food and gear came behind. They went down to the Rhine. The ferry was back. They boarded.

"The Othonianists tried to stop us at the Po," Burhmund said. "That was when Valens found the legionaries had been right to keep us Germans. We swam across and cut a foothold, which we kept till the rest could follow. Once we'd forced the river, the enemy broke and fled. Great was the slaughter at Bedriacum. Shortly afterward, Otho killed himself." He grimaced. "But Vitellius had no stronger rein on his troops. They ran wild through Italy. I saw some of that. It was ugly. This wasn't an enemy land they'd taken, it was the land they were supposed to defend. Wasn't it?"

That might have been part of the reason why the Fourteenth grew restless and snarly. A riot between the regulars and the auxiliaries nearly became a pitched battle. Civilis was among the officers who got things quieted. The new Emperor Vitellius ordered the legionaries to Britain and attached the Batavi to his palace troops. "But that wasn't good either. He had no grasp of how to handle men. Mine got slack, drank on duty, fought in barracks. At last he returned us to Germany. He could do naught else, unless he wanted blood spilled, which could have included his precious own. We were sick of him."

The ferry, a broad-beamed scow with oars, had crossed the stream. The travelers debarked and vanished into the forest.

"Vespasian held Africa and Asia," Burhmund went on. "His general Primus now landed in Italy and wrote to me. Aye, by then I had that much of a name."

Burhmund sent word around to his widespread connections. A feckless Roman legate agreed. Men went to hold the passes of the Alps; no Vitellianist Gauls or Germans would cross northward, while the Italians and Iberians had plenty to engage their attention where they were. Burhmund called an assembly of his tribe. Vitellius's conscription had been the last outrage they would take. They clashed blade on shield and shouted.

Already the neighboring Canninefates and Frisii knew what was afoot. Their folkmoots yelled for men to rally to the cause. A Tungrian cohort left its base and joined. German auxiliaries, bound south for Vitellius, heard the news and defected.

Two legions moved against Burhmund. He smashed them and drove the remnants into Castra Vetera. Crossing the Rhine, he won a clash near Bonna. His couriers urged the defenders of Old Camp to come forth on behalf of Vespasian. They refused. That was when he proclaimed secession, open war for the sake of freedom.

The Bructeri, Tencteri, and Chamavi entered his league. He dispatched couriers far and wide through Germany, Adventurers flocked from the wilds to his banners. Wael-Edh foretold the doom of Rome.

"And then the Gauls," Burhmund said, "those of them Classicus and his friends could raise. Just three tribes thus far—What's the matter?"

Everard had started at a scream that he alone heard. "Nothing," he said. "I thought I spied a movement, but it was nothing. Weariness does that, you know."

"They are killing them in the forest," Floris's voice choked. "It is ghastly. Oh, why did we have to come to this day?"

"You remember why," he told her. "Don't watch it."

They could not take years to feel out the whole truth. The Patrol could ill spare that much lifespan of theirs. Moreover, this segment of space-time was unstable; the less they from the future moved about in it, the better. Everard had decided to start with a visit to Civilis several months downtime from the split in events. Preliminary scouting suggested the Batavian would be most easily accessible when he accepted the surrender of Castra Vetera; and the occasion would add a chance to meet Classicus. Everard and Floris had hoped to get sufficient information and depart before that happened which Tacitus related.

"Did Classicus instigate it?" he asked.

"I can't be sure," Floris said around a sob. He didn't blame her. He would have hated witnessing the massacre himself, and he was case-hardened. "He is among the Germans, yes, but the trees interfere with seeing and the wind with sound pickup. Does he speak their language?"

"Little if any, as far as I know, but some among them know Latin—"

"Your soul is elsewhere, Everard," Burhmund said.

"I do feel a . . . foreboding," the Patrolman replied.
Might as well give him a hint I've got a bit of foresight, a touch of elflore. It could come in handy later.

Burhmund's visage was stark. "I too, though for reasons more earthly. Best I gather my trusty men. Hold aside, Everard. Your sword is keen, yes, but you've not marched with the legions, and I think I'll have need of tight discipline." The last word was Latin.

The truth reached them, borne by a horseman a-gallop out of the woods. In a suddenly rising, roaring mob, the Germans had fallen on the prisoners. The few Gallic guards scrambled out of the way. The Germans were butchering every unarmed man and smashing the treasures. They would give the gods their hecatomb.

Everard suspected Classicus had egged them on to it. That would have been simple. Classicus wanted them committed beyond the possibility of making a separate peace. No doubt Burhmund shared the suspicion, as furious as the Batavian was. But what could he do about it?

He could not even stop his barbarians when they swarmed kill-crazy from the woods into Old Camp. Fire leaped up behind the walls. Shrieks mingled with the stench of burning human flesh.

Burhmund wasn't actually horrified. This kind of thing was common in his world. What maddened him was the disobedience and the underhandedness that had brought it on.

"I will hale them to a weaponmoot," he growled. "I will flay them with shame. That they may know I mean it, in their sight I will cut this hair of mine, Roman-short again, and wash the dye from it. As for plighting faith to Classicus and his empire—if he mislikes what I'll have to say about that, let him dare take arms against me."

"I think best I go," Everard said. "I would only be underfoot here. Maybe we will meet anew."

When, in the unhappy days ahead of you?

5

Wind rushed bitter, driving low clouds like smoke before it. Spatters of rain flew slantwise past unrestful boughs. Hoofs splashed puddles in the trail where horses plodded, heads drooping. Saeferth rode first; Hnaef came after, leading the laden relief animals. Between them, hunched in a sodden cloak, was the Roman. With hand-signs and the like when they stopped to eat or rest, the Batavi had learned his name was Lupercus.

From around a bend appeared a group of five, surely Bructeri, for the wayfarers had reached that land. They were, however, still in the belt where nobody lived, which German tribes liked to keep around themselves. He at the forefront was gaunt as a ferret, black as a crow save where the years had strewn whiteness over hair and beard. His right hand gripped a spear. "Hold!" he cried.

Saeferth reined in. "We come peacefully, sent by our lord Burhmund to the wise-woman Wael-Edh," he said.

The dark man nodded. "We have had word of this."

"That can be but a short while ago, for we left well-nigh on the heels of his messenger, though we must needs fare slower."

"Aye. Now the time has come to act swiftly. I am Heidhin, Viduhada's son, Wael-Edh's foremost man."

"I recall you," Hnaef said, "from when my lord visited her last year. What would you of us?"

"The man you bring," Heidhin told them. "He is the one Burhmund gives to Wael-Edh, is he not?"

"Yes."

Aware that they talked about him, Lupercus tightened. His glance went from face to face while the guttural words rolled around his head.

"She in her turn gives him to the gods," Heidhin said. "I have watched for you that I may do the deed."

"What, not in your halidom, with a feast to follow?" wondered Saeferth.

"I told you there is need of haste. Several great men among us would liefer keep him in hopes of ransom, did they know. We cannot afford to aggrieve them. Yet the gods are wrathful. Look about you." Heidhin swept his spear athwart the drenched and moaning forest.

Saeferth and Hnaef could not well gainsay him. The Bructeri outnumbered them. Besides, everybody knew how he had been with the wise-woman since leaving their faraway birthland. "Witness, all, that we fully meant to seek her, and are taking your word that this is her will instead," Saeferth spoke.

Hnaef scowled. "Let's get it finished," he said.

They dismounted, as did the others, and beckoned Lupercus to do likewise. He required help, though that was because he remained weak and shaky from starvation. When they bound his wrists behind him and Heidhin uncoiled a rope with a noose, his eyes widened and he drew one sharp breath. Thereafter he steadied himself on his feet and murmured what might be something to his own gods.

Heidhin looked heavenward. "Father Woen, warrior Tiw, Donar of the thunder, hear me," he said slowly and weightily. "Know this offering for what it is, the gift of Nerha to you. Know she was never your foe nor any thief of your honor. If men have lately given you less than erstwhile, what she received was ever on behalf of all the gods. Stand again at her side, mighty ones, and bestow on us victory!"

Saefeth and Hnaef grasped Lupercus's arms. Heidhin trod forward to him. With the spearpoint he marked on the Roman's brow the sign of the hammer; on his breast, slashing the tunic, he cut a fylfot. Blood welled shoutingly red into the gray air. Lupercus kept silent. They led him to the ash tree Heidhin chose, tossed the rope over a branch, laid the noose about his neck. "Oh, Julia," he called softly. Two of Heidhin's men hauled him aloft while the rest beat sword on shield and howled. He kicked the wind until Heidhin drove the spear into him, up the belly to the heart.

When the rest had been done that should be, Heidhin said to Saeferth and Hanaef, "Come along. I will guest you at my hall ere you go back to lord Burhmund."

"What shall we tell him about this?" asked Hnaef.

"The truth," answered Heidhin. "Tell the whole host. At last the gods have gotten their rightful share as of old. Now they ought wholeheartedly to fight for us."

The Germans rode off. A raven flapped around the dead man, perched on his shoulder, pecked and swallowed. Another came, and another, and another. Their cries rang hoarse through the wind that rocked him to and fro.

6

Everard allowed Floris two days at home for rest and recovery. She was no weak sister, but she was a civilized person with a conscience, who had been witness to horror. Luckily, she hadn't known any of the victims; there should be no survivor's guilt to overcome. "Ask for psychotech help if the nightmares won't go away," he suggested. "Of course, we also have to think things over, in the light of what we've now directly observed, and figure out a program for ourselves."