Maroboodus: A Novel of Germania (The Goth Chronicles Book 1) (12 page)

He pointed a finger towards the hall near the beach. ‘And we don’t even know if some of the Saxons are worth something, eh? How many are there?’

‘Twenty are alive,’ Bero said unhappily, unwilling to hand over the proceedings to the Black Goth, ‘and two won’t walk out of the hall.’

‘Spare them all. We shall find a proper use for them later on
,
’ Hrolf announced easily as he sat next to his father. It made the lot of us gasp with wonder. Where Bero and Hulderic sat a bit apart from their nobles and commoners, the two Black Goths sat right next to each other, as if they were equal in rank.

Hughnot put a hand on his son’s shoulder and confirmed the rights of his son with a toothy smile. ‘Hrolf here is the co-ruler in our family. Hail him as your equals, nephews.’

Hulderic smiled wryly, nodding at Hrolf disdainfully, an act of dismissal if any and certainly in no way a gesture of equality. Bero squinted, having not nodded at all. ‘Surely his … rulership is something the men decide in your gau? Did they agree?’ the twisted lord asked, puzzled. ‘You have a fine son, but he is young, very young, and probably should
learn
rulership, law, and perhaps, if I might say so, war?’ Hrolf got up angrily, but Hughnot pulled him down.

‘I know war, uncle,’ Hrolf hissed, and went silent as Hughnot’s hands pressed his shoulders painfully.

‘And what does co-rulership mean in your … family?’ Hulderic asked softly, weighing the two dangerous men sitting across from us. ‘You are not too old, lord. At least you are not crippled. You could lead for a decade still. And why would we treat him equally? This gau is ours, yours is yours and this is the stronger gau, the one that leads, as has been agreed.’

Hughnot shook his head heavily, leaning forward. He had a seax in his hands, and he was playing with it deftly. He pointed it at Father. ‘As has been agreed? Such agreements have changed now. I said “in our family”,’ Hughnot stated. ‘Yours and mine. We are that, never forget. A family. You have the same blood running in your veins as I do, only thinner like a muddy river that has run too far from its roots. Hrolf here grew up to be much like his father. You two are very unlike your father, very much so. One,’ he said and pointed at Hulderic, ‘is meek, and silent. Soft I thought you to be, but you are not, but you disdain power.’ The silence was terrible, the insult enough for a feud. But Hulderic said nothing, his back tense and I wanted to kick him into action. ‘The other,’ Hughnot said, ‘lacks something else.’
Bravery.
That was his lost word, but he didn’t utter it. He slammed the blade into the bench. ‘There are no two families here anymore, like we agreed with Friednot. That is done with. Now we have only one. Our roots are in Gothonia, my friends, and while we rule two gaus, in truth we are but one. Always were. Hrolf is your equal because I rule Hrolf. Hrolf is not equal to me. But he is to you.’

And there it was. He considered himself our lords. It made Bero cringe, Maino sputter, the champions of the Bear’s shift in their feet and many crumbled angrily at the insults. Hughnot said nothing back, but stared at the lot, anticipating the mood. There were many who shook their heads at his words, but others looked down, thinking deeply

Hulderic, gathering his calm, grunted. ‘Thinner blood, eh? Perhaps the river that runs far from its roots is clear rather than muddy? No, we are free, powerful as forged Celt steel sword. Hughnot eyed the Head Taker, held by Bero. ‘I say,’ Hulderic growled, ‘that we are not less than our father, Hughnot. Do not assume so. That is an insult and insults do not lead to smiles and happiness. Especially if one has fewer men than the other.’

‘I agree,’ Bero said nervously. ‘Hrolf is your adeling, but our adelings are equal to him.’

‘Truly?’ Hughnot said softly, his jaw tight. He slapped his knee. ‘I apologize, Hulderic,’ Hughnot said, with a cruel smile on his face, ‘but I understand
Bero
here should rule us. I say I should. I have earnt the right. I am old, wily, wise, and my brother’s right hand. I made him great, and well you know it. What say you, Bero the lord of the Bears?’ The voice was mocking, and not lost on Bero. ‘Do you think you equal me in stature? Truly?’

‘I—‘ Hulderic began, but Hughnot shook his head.

‘I asked
him
,’ he roared and pointed his finger at the twisted lord.

Bero tried. He lifted his chin and eyed Hughnot with disdain. ‘The family is one. I agree. The rulership is not. Marka is the capital of our alliance. The ring is here, with me. The issue was decided when I married and so it shall be, no matter my age. We decide the rulership of this gau amongst our people, you yours, and you shall follow my banner in the future. You and Hrolf. Things will not change,’ Bero stated with a nervous stutter. The shields on our side were thrumming from being struck by the spear shafts, which emboldened Bero. ‘Family we are, but this is not land where you, or your son have a say on matters of its free men. In this Thing, we decide on common issues, but not on who is equal to whom. Aye,’ Bero said, gathering strength from some cheering nobles, ‘Things decide many things, and we sit here now, and in the future, but what Friednot once was, I am now.’

‘But you are not,’ Hrolf said darkly. ‘You are not the Thiuda. We elect war-kings for wars, and since we are always at war, Friednot was one for decades. But he is dead now and the spot is not something you inherit because of a band of gold, Bero.’

‘I say it is, because this band of gold, this ring was Friednot’s and gave him his authority,’ Bero told the boy, who sneered.

Hughnot grunted. ‘To the business at hand then. The Black Goths have agreed I and Hrolf shall be Thiuda, the war kings of
our
confederation,’ Hughnot said darkly. ‘We are changing the old ways.’

‘Well,’ Hulderic stated. ‘Bero will be ours. And yours. Did you truly ask your men to lift you over the rightful wearer of Draupnir?’ Hulderic’s eyes went over the men of the northern gau. Some were steady, many were not, looking down and away. The faces of the Black Goths gave little away, but many eyed Bero’s ring.

Hughnot’s eyes also went to the ring on Bero’s finger.
That
made our Thiuda the leader of the two gaus and that was the truth. The two Black Goths stared at us, until Hughnot sighed. He waved his hand. ‘Here it is, nephews. The fact remains that the … Bear Goths are more numerous than the Black ones. Your battles with the Svearna are not as frequent as ours. Svearna, and raiders from the coasts find us easier prey since we are the northernmost Goths, live across the Long-Lake, isolated, and so we must suffer more than you do, who have other Goths to the south. Even the Saxons find our land alluring, often rowing their ships past your land, and the Boat-Lord, our relative and a fellow Goth might soon attack us. Guess where he shall begin? He will burn our halls first, and you will help us, of course, but we will be the ones to suffer.’

‘Powerful case,’ Aldbert whispered. ‘Well practiced.’

‘Perhaps true,’ I retorted.

Hughnot went on. ‘With Friednot we had ties of blood. Yes, with you as well, but not as thick and strong as they were before and I mean no insult, this time. He was a strong leader. He anticipated trouble like a bloodhound would. We worked well together. With him in the rudder of this confederacy, we did well enough. My people suffered fewer losses when Friednot ruled. Svearna will raid harder now. Very hard, as they seem to be up to no good. They will bring thousands and they will do so in the winter as well. We need something new for our future. Something better.’ Hughnot’s men thrummed their shields briefly. ‘We need to take war to them. And we have to drive them out, far away. And that means we have to risk what Friednot didn’t wish to risk. Our lands. We have to risk war, and accept the need to conquer in order to grow. We have to risk our lives and crops. I can lead that effort. Hrolf will learn.’ His eyes went to Bero. ‘Our northern people do not trust you, though. Ring. Or no ring. Will the ring change Bero into a savage warlord as he leads us west? Or east? I doubt it.’

Bero grunted and there was an awkward silence. He said nothing, but stared forward and I saw there was a film of sweat on his forehead. Aldbert was frowning and Hulderic was fidgeting, and cursing Bero’s silence softly. ‘Lord uncle,’ Hulderic said respectfully after a while. ‘I say it is hard for a man to decide if a coming winter will be deadly beforehand. You have to endure it and see what happens. Perhaps the Svearna will not come? Perhaps they will see us still strongly united as they have always seen us. Yea, you suffer more than we do, but never have they tried to dislodge you. What we need is unity. But to go to war? Perhaps we should find out more about the threat, lord?  More about the girl that was to be married to the Boat-Lord? Your brother stopped that, and perhaps that gives us time to act. Many things need clarity. Where would we strike? Against our brethren, the Boat-Lord’s men? Against those Svearna who trade with us, still? Or beyond? We don’t know who leads them.’

‘I know who leads the ones who plan to destroy us,’ Hrolf said and Hughnot slapped a hand on his shoulder.

‘Oh?’ Hulderic asked, cocking his head. ‘Tell us.’

Hughnot looked like he was munching on a rock, grinding it to bits. Then he answered. ‘One Gislin. Lord of Snowlake, a wealthy hill fort some days away, beyond Long-Lake, further than the Three Forks, the rivers of the west. I learnt it from a trader. I’ll say no more of it.’ And there was more, as Hulderic and Bero eyed each other with confusion.

‘Did Friednot know?’ Bero asked him.

‘Yes,’ Hughnot said. ‘He did.’

‘Is the girl related to him?’ Hulderic insisted. ‘This Gislin?’

‘Might be,’ Hughnot answered, glowering darkly. ‘But we are not here to discuss strategy. We are here to discuss who will make it. I’m not inclined to wait until they butcher us.’

Hulderic nodded as he thought about it and waved his hand. ‘I say sit tight on your throne, lord, in the north and trust we will prove to be careful protectors of all our interests. We will be hounds now, Hughnot. Keen, bloodthirsty and loyal to our family, to our ancient agreements. And perhaps we shall go to war together, but under the Bear banner. Does this please you?’ Hulderic asked his brother and Bero nodded stiffly and Hrolf my father like he would a corpse. The twisted Bero cringed as Hughnot straightened his back slowly, and stood up. He pointed a finger at Bero.

‘I want,’ Hughnot said softly, his eyes glowing and voice crackling with impatience, ‘Hrolf to live in the Bone-Hall. I want you to respect him like you did Friednot. And
then
we shall plan for war and for peace and that is the way of it. I’ll not discuss this further.’

The silence that followed was so heavy you could hear a horse farting in the halls nearby. Danr and Eadwine, Bero’s warlords were stroking their beards. Ingulf and Ingo were staring resolutely at every champion present and I noticed they held hands on their ax hilts. Aldbert leaned on me. ‘That is why he didn’t want the gods blessing on the Thing. If he is rejected, there was no real Thing, was there? Just a group of idiots refusing to see his wisdom.’

Aldbert’s whispered words didn’t carry to anyone’s ears, but they did release everyone else to whisper as well. The Bear Goths were muttering angrily, though not everyone looked upset at the threat Hughnot was making. Eyes were glinting in the ranks of nobles on our side and the fact was not lost on Bero. Hulderic saw it as well and flashed a look at Bero. The twisted lord swallowed and shook his head. ‘This is not a decision for today.’

‘Not for today?’ Hughnot asked softly. ‘Why not?’

‘I will have to consult a vitka,’ Bero said slowly. ‘And I will decide this only after my son’s issues have been dealt with.’

‘What issues are those?’ Hrolf sneered. ‘What issues might Maino have that are more important than the rulership of our people? I would think he can speak for himself? Or has he fallen over his ax and swallowed his tongue? Gotten lost in a mug of ale?’

Maino growled. ‘I—‘

‘Come, stand up, I cannot hear you!’ Hrolf yelled.

Maino did and it did take away the smile from Hrolf’s lips, because Maino had a reputation and it was no less than Hrolf’s. He spoke surprisingly strongly. ‘I will not have you lot spoil the night of my marriage to the Svea girl.’ Hughnot frowned at the news. If the girl was the one that had been planned on to cement the alliance between the Boat-Lord and the Svearna, this Gislin, then it would not suit Hughnot Maino married her. The angry reaction on his face told us that.

But someone else reacted more strongly.

‘Marriage?’ the question was growled so loudly it reverberated across the meeting. Hundreds of people turned to look at the source. Aldbert, and Father as well, their eyes scouring me feverishly, as I had uttered the word.

‘To Snow-Flower,’ Maino said with a sneer, turning to me. ‘Happy you spoke up. You see, I need to pay her father a dowry. And you, Maroboodus shall provide it. You’ll do it for the insult, the cowardly attack on me during the battle. Your father has agreed to this. Six cows and a horse. And you shall bring them to me, drag them to their new master and ask for pardon, cousin.’

‘You want me to pay for
your
dowry?’ I growled. ‘You wish me to apologize to
you?
’

‘Yes, cousin. You will bless my marriage with your gifts,’ he grinned. ‘I’ll tell her it was the red-haired dolt who thinks he saved her, that paid so handsomely for our bliss.’