Adalwulf: The Two Swords (Tales of Germania Book 1) (20 page)

“Drag the corpse out,” I said, and pulled at Iodocus as the Germani stuck the torch in mud. They grabbed Helm by feet, and dragged him to his grave.

We turned to look around. Iodocus, an old thief, pulled my sleeve, and pointed at the corner, where there was an empty stall. It had hay on the floor, dry mud, and a set of planks, and had obviously never been used by an animal. Iodocus produced a large sack, and we made our way to the stall, and tore at the planking. It was not a real floor, not at all, and the wooden apparatus on the floor lifted nearly effortlessly, having been nailed together sturdily. Dust and mud flew, and we discovered a hole, and a dusty cloth. Iodocus grabbed it, and we found the hole bottom was filled with three sacks.

Large sacks.

“Shit,” Iodocus said softly as he poked at the things, which clinked. “This is—”

“Fill our sack,” I said. “And remember you serve your lord.
Lords,
Hulderic and Teutorigos, or at least one. You know what I mean.” I was babbling. I had never been so excited. So many riches were under our noses, but still hidden, and I was burning to open one. “Steal some, and they will find you,” I told Iodocus and the Celt, as much as to myself.

“Bero would have to look hard. I’d run far, far away,” Iodocus smiled, and raised his hands to show he was only joking. I hoped he was. “Don’t worry. I know why we are doing this. For his son, for Hulderic, and I’ll keep my oaths. So will the other ones.” I wasn’t so sure of that, as the other Celt frowned.

We pulled at the sacks in the hole, clinking with Roman and Celt coin. We opened them up, there in the dust and mud, and sucked in our breaths, all three of us. There was a stream of silver, and we let it rush through our hands. Now Germani rarely used coins, but the people by the River Rhenus did, and knew its fabulous value. What was there could make a clan of men and their families very rich indeed.

There was a sort of desperate madness in us, our asses were in the air over a heap of coins in the torch-lit stable, and we all wondered what would be hidden in his hall itself, or elsewhere where he had such troves. The Celts, of course, had been using coins all their lives, their kings and nobles minting their own since time immemorial. I could see sweat pouring from their foreheads to the hands that were holding fistfuls of such riches. There were even fine rocks, red, green, smoke-colored, and I was sure they’d be worth more than the Roman pieces of gold. I’m not sure how long we were there, drooling in a sort of madness, but should Bero’s men had found us there, we probably would not have noticed them at all.

In the end, the two Germani came back, covered with sweat. One clapped a hand over Iodocus’s shoulder. “Shit!” he said, his eyes round. “That’s a sight to die for!”

“We might die for it, indeed,” I murmured. “We have got to go,” I added. “Gods above and below, but this will drive Bero crazy. Losing this will make his soul whither.”

“Unless he had ten times the amount,” Iodocus breathed as he got up. We were staring at each other feverishly.

“He’ll hate losing this just as much, no matter how much he has,” I whispered.

“By the sun bitten ass of Teutates,” the long-mustached Celt cursed. “To die so rich!”

“It’s not ours,” I hissed. “And it’s better to live than die, no?”

Iodocus was pushing at his Celt friend, who got up, and I saw his fist was full of silver. I opened my mouth, but Iodocus shook his head and turned him around. “You know the plan. Go and hide yourself. Listen well, talk to Ingrid. You’ll bring the news to us. Every evening, across the river, you’ll be there. Is this clear? Make sure Teutorigos stays put. Don’t let him do
anything
rash.”

The man laughed gutturally. “I? I cannot stop Teutorigos. But I won’t tell him anything I hear in the town.”

“Gods above,” breathed the toothless Germani, startling us all. “That’s something,” he said, as he stared over out shoulder. His friend was shocked speechless.

“Helm’s buried deep?” Iodocus asked the two Marcomanni as he begun ladling the treasure into our one large bag, lifting the smaller ones inside. I helped as best I could, but there was a silvery mess in the mud.

“We heaped the dirt over him, pulled some old troughs over it,” one answered. “They’ll never find him, and we have to move. Over the river, and may the gods give us some morsel of mercy.”

“When did they give men mercy?” the silver thieving Celt said. “They’ll have us humped in the ass,” he added, and stepped to the door and turned to look at us. “Good luck then.”

He went away.

The gods humped us in the ass indeed, as we heard Leuthard’s voice calling out to a slave. It came from the direction of Bero’s hall. “Bring me my horse!” he yelled impatiently.

“Shit,” I said, feeling fear gnawing my belly. “We have to go fast!”

Iodocus closed his mouth and held his head. “No. He’ll come after us.”

“Why?” the toothless Germani demanded. “We just leave fast, carry the bag to the shore, and let him ride to his home. Why would he care one bit to—”

“The road to
his
hall goes by the
this
stable,” Iodocus whispered. “And Helm’s not out there, keeping guard. He’ll take after us.”

We stared at each other. “You damned goat-rustlers didn’t think he’d ride this way—”

Iodocus pushed me. “This is your plan, eh?”

“Right,” I spat. I hesitated, and then rushed and grabbed Helm’s spear and shield, tore a hooded cloak from the toothless Germani, and rushed out. “Stay still, and be ready,” I hissed into the stables, and heard Iodocus whispering, the clink of treasure as it was hauled to the end door. I glanced anxiously through the half-open main door, and saw their shadows coming back. They took positions out of sight, but very near me. The horses, the pigs, and the cows inside were growing restless by the strange happenings in their normally peaceful and dark home.

I heard hooves, then horse whinnying, twigs breaking.

I sat down, placed Helm’s shield next to me, held the spear across my knees and sat in the deepest shadows possible, glaring under my hood at the dark path that led to Bero’s hall. I noticed a drinking horn by my foot, and took it with trembling hands, begging the gods for mercy. Everything had gone so well that far, and there I was, shaking like a leaf, about to try to fool a lord of the night.

And that lord appeared.

The shadow came to sight slowly. A huge arm pushed aside some low-hanging branches, and then the man came to sight, sitting on his horse. He was glad in his customary armor, with a bronze beast’s head glimmering over the chain mail that was stretched across his huge chest, hanging mid-thigh. His bald head looked as massive as the horse’s, and his sword was on his side, the Feud Settler’s hilt never far from his hand. His eyes took in everything, every shadow, every movement of the night-animals in the roots and shrubs. He stared at me, as I sat there in the shadows, feeling totally naked. I forced my arm to move, and raised the horn towards him in salute. His eyes glittered, and he didn’t salute back, but rode past, twenty feet away, and I forced myself to take a sip of the drink, and looked down.

It seemed to take forever, but finally he disappeared, the shadow moving away.

I let my breath out, shaking all over, and rushed in, nearly tripping on the shield. There the others were leaning on the stalls, white as clouds. “Shit,” Iodocus said. “It was going too well, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, and wiped my face. “The gods want their fun, eh? Let’s go then. He’s gone.”

We moved for the back door, as swiftly as we could. We were tripping on muddy stones and the dog carcasses, but then we saw the outline of the side door, a shred of light from Mani shining past the cracks. Iodocus grabbed the sack, the toothless Germani pushed at the door, and then the outlines of the doorframe flickered.

“Look out—” I began, but it was too late.

The door blew in, and something huge entered. Light glittered along a long, fearsome blade. “Well, what do we have here?” a voice growled, and I knew Leuthard had not been fooled, after all. “Helm never salutes me. Never shows respect to anyone. So who are you?”

He was right there, in the midst of us.

I cursed, nearly frozen with horror, but the two Marcomanni didn’t. One thrust his spear at the terrible shadow, another charged him. Leuthard roared and moved like an evil spirit, fast as breath, and I fell on my rear inside a cow stall as the mass of three men barreled further into the stables, crashing through a cow’s stall, uprooting a pillar. The horse whinnied in terror and bolted, trying to get past us.

A man screamed with pain, there were grunts, panting curses, cows were smashing against the walls, and the stallion was whinnying with fear, kicking the air near us. Iodocus dropped the bag, and pulled me up. We rushed forward, trying to see what was going on. It was impossible. There were shadows, sounds of a struggle, more growls, and then I saw a larger shadow than the rest stand up. A blade flashed.

A man died.

I saw the blade pierce a smaller shadow, and the victim’s hands were thrown up in the air, his thin scream pierced the air. Leuthard laughed spitefully, struck the dying man off his blade, and turned to fight his next victim. That man pushed his spear at the huge champion. Leuthard moved like a spirit, and grasped the Germani by his throat, pushing him against the spooked horse. Iodocus hesitated, and we cost the man his life, as Leuthard slowly pushed his sword into the man’s gut, then through him all the way to the horse, which gave a pained, horrified whinny.

His eyes sought us over the dying man’s head, and the horse’s back.

His eyes gleamed unnaturally, his face was twisted with unearthly glee, and I heard Iodocus gasp with fear.

He’d kill us there.

I raised the hammer, rushed forward, hearing the power of Woden’s rage hammer in my ears. The horse blocked me. Leuthard pulled his sword out, ready to smite me over the dying man and the wounded beast, but I hammered the horse’s skull with the hammer and slammed into its side as hard as I could.

The dying animal toppled over Leuthard and the dead Germani. I picked myself up and stepped over the flailing horse legs, tried to make sense of the mess beneath me. I crawled over the horse, and saw a squirming, thrashing shadow below me. I felt its breath, and then felt a blade piece the air right before my face.

I couldn’t see, and knew I’d catch the dangerous blade in my throat if I didn’t move, but stubbornly I kept trying to figure out where Leuthard was.

He could have killed me. I had forgotten we should take him alive. I saw the blade glinting. I lifted the hammer, hoping to block the hit.

Iodocus pulled me away. The sword struck the horse, spattering blood wide.

Iodocus was strong for such a thin man, and he pulled me back, breathing harshly. He grabbed me, and guided me for the back door. “The plan, remember the plan,” he chanted breathlessly.

“He’s right there,” I hissed.

“We need more men,” he spat.

There was a grunting noise, one of frustration, and I saw the horse’s corpse heaving, as Leuthard sought to release himself. Iodocus pushed me out of the door, and the night’s crisp air cleared my head. I heard a clinking sound, grunts, and Iodocus rushed out of the stable, dragging the sack. His eyes were haunted, he nodded downhill to the shore, where our boat waited, and so we fled.

We ran like spooked animals, and I helped Iodocus along. We rushed through dark ferns, woods, across yards, chased by surprised dogs. Somewhere behind us, we heard the whinnying of a horse and a man’s harsh voice cursing. When we reached the shore of the great river, we stumbled into the waiting boat, pushed, pulled and splashed our way to the dark waters. Soon were heading for the others side.

Iodocus grasped his oars, and I stumbled to look behind. There, in the shadows of the Marcomanni shore, sat a man. He was a man, I told myself, but I was not convinced. What I had seen in the stables bespoke of something else, of something very dangerous. While I hoped it had been light playing with shadows and imagination incited by the fear of the battle in the dark, my senses told me Leuthard, who was sitting there, watching me, could not be called a “man” without some reservations. He sat there, lifted his hand, flexed a finger, and the finger was pointed at me.

He was not fooled. He knew me.

But Bero wouldn’t care. He’d want his treasure back.

Iodocus was quiet, until we reached the middle of the river, and could no longer make out Leuthard. He spat overboard, and cursed softly. “He knows Helm didn’t take part.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said weakly, turning my back on the east shore, holding my face. “Fulch will tell Bero what Ermendrud will tell him, and Leuthard will not have Helm there to deny it. Bero will give Leuthard hard time. His warlord will have to retrieve it. Thank you. He would have—”

He shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “I should have fought him with you. But I was spooked, and didn’t wish to die. I’m sorry. And we wanted to take him alive, remember?” He laughed at the notion. “Gods, what a mess this is.”

“He would have killed us there in the dark,” I said, sure it was so. “He would have raped us with his sword.”

“Or just eaten us,” Iodocus said, shuddering with the thought. “His eyes?”