Adalwulf: The Two Swords (Tales of Germania Book 1) (16 page)

I rubbed my face, both for the pain in my back and my horribly knotted future. “So. The commoners love Bero. But the warriors are unhappy?” I asked, and gave one before he answered. “They are not getting their fill of what they came here to look for? They are not ready for war, should Rome come suddenly? I’ve heard this before, and I’ve only been here a day or two.” I realized I didn’t even know if I had slept in the hall of Teutorigos for more than a moment. Days might have passed.

Balderich smiled like a fox. “As I said. They want the horses and the cows and that Roman sword,” Balderich stated. “That’s what they all want. Some get it, but many do not. Bero is being very peaceful with Rome, because of the trade. He has grown rich as some decadent god of the Asgaard, and while I do get my share, he also has to worry about the second aspect of being a warlord. He is a noble lord. The second is being a war-like lord.”

“You need war,” I stated. “How can
I
help with
that
?”

He was nodding. “I don’t need war with Rome. Bero’s right in that. I need wars with the Vangiones, the Matticati, the Gauls, something much more that what we are doing now. We raid, but when is the last time we sent a thousand spears into battle? Even a hundred? We need warriors growing rich of loot in order to attract more warriors. We also need men dying, so we have heroes and songs, and fewer men eating and growing fat. We need victories, we need losses. We need feuds against our enemies. We raid, but there is no real energy or purpose in the raids. Bero mainly fights the Matticati, and rarely raids their villages. He fights off some aggressive Celt lords, but never takes men deep into their lands. He makes war with the poor tribes of the Black Forest. Our foes are growing unafraid of us. Hulderic, and others like him, keep the Chatti and the Hermanduri in check, and they actually fight wars in the east, but what we need is a proper conflict with the Gauls and the Vangiones. We need that. Even if we lose men. Young men will soon start to go elsewhere for their adventure. We need battle-hardened, experienced men, and you don’t get such men while Bero sits on top of his trade.”

“Isn’t a war with the Vangiones and the Celts a war with Rome?” I asked. “Excuse me, Lord Bero probably is a genius in these matters, but I doubt I know how many villages one can burn before Rome takes exception.”

He smiled. “What Bero misses when he comes to this hall, is the chain on my wall.”

“Lord?”

“The chain,” he laughed. “On the wall. He never looked up to it. Not once. That chain, Chatti, reminds us that the war
will
eventually come. It is unavoidable.” He sobered, and sat there for a moment. “His trade won’t save us. So I need your help. Give him a reason to make war. Something grand. Something that men will notice across the rivers, and reminds us we are still enemies. Leave Rome out of it. If they take exception, so be it. I doubt they will.”

“Very well,” I said, laughing harshly. “You are asking for something simple, and, sure, I’ll do that. I’ll just double the raids over the river, then. I’ll arrange for a grand war with the Celts. I, after all, have Bero’s ear. He will sit with me, hold my hand, and weep on my shoulder as we share stories. He’ll probably wish to squat next to me when I go and take a shit.” The girl giggled softly.

“Don’t be stupid,” Balderich grunted. The girl pinched me, and I resisted an urge to glare at her. “It’s a mess, and I know it. You are already looking at Bero. Hulderic’s sword is out there, and Bero knows where, probably. Think hard. Help me. Find a way to push Bero so he takes an active interest in a shieldwall, and not so much in a Roman wine jar.”

“Can’t you just
command
him to raid the Mediomactri?” I asked him loudly.

That was a mistake. His face darkened. The girl pinched me again, harder. Balderich opened his mouth, and closed it, and spoke again. “And what if he refused?”

I was quiet, brooding. The blood of Aristovistus was old. He had been the power behind the Marcomanni, but he wasn’t so sure he still was. Money, coin, paid the warlords now. “I see.”

“Do you?” he breathed sadly. “I’m glad if you do. I could elevate some of the champions, even Hulderic, your so-called foe, but Hulderic is the caretaker of our nation’s future. His grandsons carry the blood of Aristovistus, and also, as their father Maroboodus is a high Goth of the north, the blood of the Raging Bear and the Boat-Lords. They are our future. They will rule well. Hulderic also guards the east and the north, and we need him there. And the champions might refuse me if I just go past Bero. Leuthard guards Bero like a dog. That man might not hesitate to draw a sword for Bero, even against me.”

He feared Leuthard,
I thought, and felt sorry for him. He still worried for the Marcomanni, still tried to lead, waiting for his grandsons to grow, playing time, but he was also desperate, leading from the shadows. He was desperate enough to thrust a foolish Chatti into the game, trusting a man he barely knew.

A fool Chatti, who had failed so many times since he arrived, and before it.

I sat there, forgetting the prying fingers and mutterings of the girl.
What was he asking?
“Lord. You asked me not to tell what I am doing with Hulderic, for him, but he is asking a great deal for finding this sword. I didn’t fool Leuthard out there at all. He’ll want my head. I was hoping to, wish to, find a way to their confidence, but found they will never have me. Now you ask me to find a way to make Bero raid the Gauls and the Vangiones? I am just a simple man.”

He smiled shrewdly. “I sense you are not an ordinary boy, and as Hulderic trusts you, I shall as well. You are uniquely placed, boy, in such a way that you have no hold on Hard Hill. You and I both know they will want you to die as soon as possible to hide Bero’s crime. I know he did it. They have been hurting each other since they moved here, and Bark’s strange request that no chief carry a weapon in the prayers smelled of Bero’s coin. Now he fears you. Leuthard hates you. I’d say you are properly motivated. So you will help find a way to get Bero’s juices flowing. You will get a reward,” he said a bit guardedly, “if you succeed. That reward shall be a leave to serve Hulderic. Fail, and you will not live in my lands. I still have that much power over the Hill. You’ll be thrown out. It’s that simple.” I felt the girl disapproved the man’s words, and I stiffened, as I was being blackmailed. Though, perhaps, the man was desperate, and could be forgiven.

“What is his weakness?” I asked frankly, at loss how to tackle the issue. “Riches?”

He nodded, complimenting me for my question. “Wealth indeed. He is far too rich for his own good. And for my good.’ His eyes went to the girl, who seemed not to listen to him, and then he eyed me. “Ingrid knows my problems here in Hard Hill. Now you do as well. Say “no” at your own peril.”

She was Ingrid indeed. I resisted the urge to turn to look at her.

“I’m a poor bastard Chatti who—” I began, then grimaced as Ingrid poked a finger in the hole in my back, and I knew she had done it on purpose, “would love nothing better than to help you,” I finished. My mind was whirling.

He shook his head as he had noticed the poke, and I felt Ingrid smiling, even if I didn’t see her. Balderich got up with a groan, holding his knee. “Gods damn old age, and its humiliations. I’ll have to take a piss now. You don’t wish to see it. You find out the truth about the sword for Hulderic. Find the sword, if you can. While you do, give us war, make Bero a soldier. I know you have little hope of figuring out a scheme I haven’t been able to, but try.”

Ingrid spoke, her voice clear as rain. “Won’t that stop the trade? A war? It should, no?”

Balderich shook his head. “Nothing stops trade. That’s what Bero does not get. Traders trade, no matter if the soldiers die, and perhaps trade even harder, though under the cover of darkness.”

I nodded at the great man who walked around me. He was mumbling with Ingrid, who finally hissed at him, and came to stand before me. “Someone poked a framea at your back. Thin wound. Got lucky, didn’t you?”

“I don’t feel lucky right now. I’m to find an ancient sword for a place in Hulderic’s table, and a way to make a cowardly warlord into a raging wolf. It seems I might as well jump over Sunna, or fetch Hel’s dagger from beyond Gjöll.”

“Are we clear?” he asked, ignoring my whines.

I hesitated. “There was a Chatti here, days ago. In this hall, asking for you. Did he say what his business was? Was he looking for me? What was his name?”

Balderich shrugged. “There was one. I assumed he was a trader. I sent him to Bero.”

He sent him to Bero. And Bero figured out a way to blame another for something he was planning. “I see.”

“Didn’t even talk to him. I’m sorry,” Balderich said. He leaned close, and tapped his finger on my hammer, then my head. “Brave up, now. These will help you. Eat, drink, and sleep here in my hall. The Thing is over, and chiefs go home, and you can start plotting. I have some faith in you, Adalwulf. It costs me little to have you try, and you might make it, since none know you, and you are desperate already.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I don’t care about your age, your lack of wealth, only for the fact you came to my door, ready to serve Hulderic in something very dangerous. That speaks a world of you. That’s why I’m asking something nearly impossible. But, remember, impossible or not,” he said, and leaned close, his one good eye sharp as an eagle’s. “I am of the blood of a king. There have been few kings with the Germani. It is our way to succeed where others fail, and if you do fail, you pay the price.”

“Yes, I see.”

“Do not fail, Adalwulf. Or you leave the land
.
Do not betray me, or you will swin
g
. Ingrid, take him to his quarters. You have some time, Adalwulf, before Bero becomes suspicious, and starts to wonder if I’ve made up my mind about you and your issues with Teutorigos and Hulderic. Rest, but do not rest too long.”

I
waited uneasily, as they settled me in. There were no real rooms, but simple alcoves at the back of the great hall, mostly living quarters for the servants and family members, but since Balderich had no family present in the hall, some were empty. Few halls were as big as the Red Hall, but it was also moldy, and the bed was old. While they changed the hay on the sad, narrow thing, I walked around, trying to get to know the place. There were warriors, Balderich’s old warriors, noble men who greeted me, and judging by the suspicious way they looked at me, it was clear they had been told to remain vigilant around me
.
Ingrid came upon me while I was exploring a meat larder. They also appeared to use the same room as a bathing chamber. The lure of a bath was strong
.

“Too late for that today,” she smiled, reading my mind. “We do it in the mornings. But you can take one down in the river, by the harbor, of course.”

“I should,” I said, and lifted my tunic, sniffing it. “I’ve smelled sweeter turds, to be honest.”

She took a step forward. “Refrain from smelling sweet turds while Balderich is present. You were told there is a slave in the hall of Balderich who will help you?”

I nodded and smiled. “One Ingrid.”

“I am that Ingrid,” she said happily, and I instantly liked her. “I was Sigilind’s slave when I was a child, and Hulderic told me she still misses me. They told me I’d be welcomed in his hall one day, if I keep my eyes open for the Goth.” She looked ashamed, and then swiped her hair back. “As long as I’m not hurting Balderich, I’m happy, and so I’m here to help you. I’ll take messages to Teutorigos and his men in the town, and I’ll advise you. Iodocus is nearby.”

“Iodocus?” I asked.

“A thin, great warrior,” she answered. “Probably saw him with Teutorigos. Be sure to tell me before you put yourself into any danger. They’ll keep an eye on you. Bero and Iodocus both.”

I smiled. “Great! Can you tell me where I might find Hulderic’s sword, and that other thing? Can you advise me how to kick Bero into having a war or two? Why did he—”

She chuckled as she pulled at my filthy tunic. “I know. But you figured it out already. He is afraid of Bero and Leuthard, he still wants to lead the tribe wisely, but has lost the reins. And he trusts Hulderic, and if Hulderic trust you enough to set you on a mad mission, he wanted to see if you might help him as well. Do your best. He might not hang you if you fail, after all.”

“
If
I fail,” I chortled. “Not when.”

“We got you a new set of clothes. Here.” She showed me a gray, woolen tunic.

“Gods, thank you,” I breathed. She threw it to me, blushing as I pulled off my bloody, dirty tunic and dropped it on a bench.

“Gods be thanked, indeed,” she smiled.

“I’m not that pretty that you need to thank the gods for this sight,” I murmured. “But I’m grateful for the clothes.”

She raised her eyebrow. “I’ve seen prettier boys.”

“Oh?” I said, feeling I had made a fool of myself.

“Some,” she allowed, smiling mischievously. “We can afford to waste some finery on a rogue Chatti thief. Take these as well.” She showed me a set of pants, new shoes with fine leather, and a rope to serve as a belt.

“I’m no thief…” I began, but of course I was and went quiet.

“I’m no expert, but most warriors steal for living,” she grinned. “Didn’t they take me from my family in the lands of the Matticati when I was herding the cows? I was only eight,” she added. I kicked away my broken shoes, and pulled down my pants.

“You aren’t squeamish, are you, Adalwulf?” she said a bit breathlessly as she averted her eyes. “I haven’t seen
that
before,” she murmured, her cheeks flushed.

I hesitated, and shrugged. I had never been shy, nor cared to be. Most men and women were very moral and chaste east of the great river, and while Gisil had seemed very carefree, even more than I was, Ingrid was more like the Chatti, as she looked away, still blushing and murmuring something. I chuckled as I struggled with the pants. “Germain, my uncle, told me once I used to run stark naked across the house when his guests arrived, especially their daughters. Says he gave up, told everyone I was a lecherous wood spirit, and should be ignored.”

She giggled and nodded enthusiastically, as I pulled the rope belt around my waist, while sneaking peeks at me. “You have grown up, I think.”

“I hope so,” I told her with a smile, though Gisil’s face flitted in my mind, and I looked away from her, because Ingrid was pretty as a flower, and what I felt for Gisil confused me.

She slapped her hands together, rousing herself to the business at hand. “Start thinking about the dilemma. In the meantime, I have errands to run in the town. You should rest a bit. Your back isn’t horrible, seen worse, but it might very well go angry red, raw, fill with puss, and then you’ll die. I’ll take a boy with me, and we’ll get you something from the market. You have no wealth? That belt makes you look like a peasant, not a warrior.”

I nodded. “Only my horse. It’s at the stables. It’s old, but it’s a good one.”

She smiled as she heard the love dripping in my voice, and perhaps there was a brief scowl of jealousy. I noticed a small boy of perhaps thirteen, runty and thin-necked, peeking at her from behind a curtain. She left and pulled him after her, babbling and speaking, but the boy’s eyes held mine briefly, full of suspicion. He was in love with Ingrid.

I went to lie down to my alcove, closed my eyes, and let the blissful exhaustion chase away the tasks I had been given. When I woke up, it was very late.

I awoke with a startle. I grasped my hammer, and I saw the roof, and then realized I had not woken up naturally. I saw the boy there, looking at me nervously. I shot up, stopping myself from shouting out with the surprise. I took some breaths, waited for him to say something, and then lost my patience. “What is it?” I asked him with a growl.

“I heard you,” he whispered.

“Huh?”

He waved his hand. “When you spoke. There’s something you should know. But first, here.” He put a leather belt of good quality on the bed, and there was a fine buckle with metal rings and hooks. “Ingrid’s gift,” he said seedily. “Better than most. Better than what Balderich gave you. Much better.”

“Oh!” I said, frowned and took it, looking at it reverently. “It must have been costly.”

“She likes you,” he said resentfully. “She has no man, you see, and Balderich is looking to find one for her, but the lord told her she could look around as well, and she likes you a lot.” He sounded like he had a rotten bit of meat in his mouth.

I stuttered and fumbled with the belt, as I pulled it around me, while tugging at the rope one. “You are very forthright about it.”

“She is a fool, I think. You look trouble,” he said unhappily.

“You’re probably right,” I told him with a chuckle as I admired the belt around me. “What did you mean when you said you heard me?”

“It’s about your horse,” he stated. “You were speaking about your nag. There’s an issue you don’t know about. Trouble.” He sounded almost happy about it.

I stared at him, willing him to speak, feeling something terrible was about to unfold. His eyes glinted maliciously, but he looked away, ashamed, and shrugged. I poked him. “Go on. My horse is in the stables. It’s right there in the other end of the hall.”

He shook his head. “While you were speaking with Ingrid, Leuthard took your horse. Or rather, his man did. I saw it. Many did, in fact, but few question him.”

My blood froze, and then boiled. I clutched the hammer with savagery.

“Where,
exactly,
did he take my horse? Where does he live?”

“It’s not in his own stables,” the boy said nervously. “We all know where he takes his animals. He holds horses, stolen like this one, in a stable further in the woods, down the hill. It’s a village near the river.”

I stood there for a moment, I knew I should be cautious, but I wasn’t in the mood
. Snake-Bite? Oh, no. He’s mine.
I pulled my hammer, and leaned down on the boy. “You will take me there.”

“I don’t—”

“I didn’t ask. I
told
you to do it,” I said threateningly. “What’s your name?”

“I don’t have one,” he said with a scared voice. “They call me Bait.”

I laughed, and pushed him out as fast and stealthily I could. I’d get Snake-Bite back, no matter the cost. I pulled him out from the side door, and ignored Ingrid’s voice calling for me. I was in a hurry.

***

The trip down the dark hill felt foolish.
I should wait until the morning
, I thought.
I should have told Ingrid,
I decided, but it was too late. That horse was
mine
. We went past lazy Marcomanni sitting outside their homes, drinking ale and mead, enjoying warm summer evening, which was quite dark since there was a bank of clouds travelling the velvet sky. We walked for quite a while, down tracks and even better roads, passing many practical houses of the craftsmen, larger stables, cowsheds, and even a rare pigsty, where the plump animals stuck their snouts from cracks in the wall to greet us. A grouse was startled to flight as we pushed into thick undergrowth. Soon we were no longer on the hill, but hiking through ferns, wet branches, and Bait was cursing and shaking with cold.

Or fear,
I realized.

“Bait,” I said, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, scared out of his mind. He hugged himself, his eyes huge. “Are there guards there?”

“Probably,” he murmured. “Of course. But they might be asleep? It’s never been robbed.”

“I’m not robbing it. Just taking back what’s mine. Lead on then. Is it far?” I asked, and he was nodding and shaking his head both.

“It’s called Bramble, a village a short walk away, but, in the dark, a bit more,” he said, and pushed on.

I followed him, hoping he knew what he was doing. In the end, it took thirty wet and confused minutes, and we nearly fell into the dark Rhenus River, which was conspicuously quiet for such a great body of water. Bait collected himself, and finally found a well-trodden trail. In the end, we found Bramble.

It was deserted.

The halls were home to owls, the mice they ate, and flowers. The roofs were gone, the doors ajar and broken, and a fire had ravaged some halls at some point. It all felt strange and I had a nasty suspicion that made my belly churn with anxiety. I pulled Bait around. He looked back at me, and said nothing, but his eyes betrayed his fear. “So,” I murmured. “Where is my horse,
Bait
?”

He stammered and put his hands on his face. “It’s not here. It’s not alive, even.”

“Not alive,” I said softly and pulled him around. “What do you mean? Where did you lead me? Trap? And why?”

He sobbed, and I shook him and pushed him to a tree. “Why?” Bait breathed amidst his sobs. “They said they would kill her. Ingrid.”

I was in trouble.

I asked, though I knew the answer. “Who said that? Leuthard?”

Bait opened his mouth, croaked, but turned his head to the darkness.

I heard noises. There were horses whinnying nearby, and three mounted, man-sized shadows emerged from the dark. They spotted me, and a man rode before the others. He dug around his saddle, and tossed something our way.

It rolled over the dark, wet ground, stopped by a boulder, right in front of us. Even in the night I could see it was a bloody horse-jaw, the teeth gleaming weakly, white and yellow.

Snake-Bite.

I let go of the boy, who hesitated, and got up, and sprinted into the darkness, dodging the horses that were again advancing steadily. Fear was cursing its way down my spine, but I stood my ground. I didn’t so much as budge, holding the hammer with shaking hands. The men were grizzly, tough veterans, their beards long. Two were obviously brothers, their beards and hair similarly knotted and braided, and they all wore leather armor. One was the scarred man who had nearly ridden down Danr’s girl. I heard rusting from the village as well.

“My name’s Helm,” said one of the brothers, the man I recognized. He had a half an eyebrow, and a wound mangled the face around his eye. There was a mass of scars stretching over his forehead, and he looked evil as his long spear that was pointed my way.