Adalwulf: The Two Swords (Tales of Germania Book 1) (26 page)

“We did, you thief,” I murmured. “Just in case Seisyll would give us hard time when Leuthard was to be kept alive. And now, you are needed. Fight for the coin, you mercenary filth.”

He smiled thinly. “So, let me get this clear,” the Roman said, and nodded towards the village. “In return for the treasure, you want us to risk our necks? And spare yours after?” His men didn’t look happy.

“There’s a lot of treasure there, isn’t there?” I smiled. “You played with them this night. Probably kissed and hugged them, like you would a beloved child. Go, and save your child, Roman.”

“Fuck me,” Gaius breathed, and he nudged his men. “Come, boys, let’s go and see what’s out there. And if the Germani shit lied, we’ll have some fun with him later.”

“It’s another warband,” I said. “Led by Leuthard. I need him
alive.”

“The champion everyone speaks of?” he asked, tilting his head. He had the most peculiar light brown eyes, and a handsome, shaved face. I admired how he smiled uncaringly at the mention of the dreaded warrior. “Well, I still have four men. Should do the trick. Alive it is. We’ll fight them from the walls.”

I laughed at the thief, and we rushed to the village. We dodged through huts, halls, sheds, and reached the other side, and there, we stopped. “Shit,” I breathed.

There would be no fight from the walls.

The gate was open.

Before the gate, the Beast stood amidst his warriors, and the houses around the gate were burning. He was in his war-glory, the bronze figure glinting on his chest, and, in his hand, the Feud Settler glittered. He was tall, menacing, his shield tall and wide, and then he felt our eyes looking at him. I was sure of it. He turned very slowly, and his eyes fixed with mine, and I read my death there. He smiled widely, his face blood spattered from some battle in the darkness. The skull under his skin seemed to bulge, his teeth glittered as he readied to rip the head off my shoulders. He was touched by the gods.

But perhaps not by Woden.

L
euthard’s warriors were standing around, breathing heavily after their brief skirmishes in the darkness. There was a horse running past them, neighing wildly, blood on its flank, and young Marcomanni was tying up some women. Several men were looting the closest houses, and a young warrior held the dread banner of Leuthard by the gate. The wolf tails shifted with a short gust of wind on the cross pole as Leuthard called for his men. Dozens formed a line to face us, streaming from the darkness, their spears bloodied, and more men emerged from the halls. He looked beyond me and his eyes betrayed surprise. “You
beat
Fulch?” he wondered. “Or are you fleeing him?”

I smiled bravely, though I was exhausted, and knew we’d die. “We surprised him. He might be alive.”

He chortled. “Looks like the night is full of surprises, eh?” His eyes turned to look at the Romans, admiring their weapons and armor. “They’ll make Bero happy, won’t they?” He bowed to Gaius with mockery. “Armor for my men, swords. Good of you to help us with this venture, Roman. I sent the horse-trader to awaken your greed, if you wish to know.”

“You have to take them first, Marcomanni,” Gaius said cheerfully. “And I’ll still walk out of here with the bait.”

“I’ll take them in a bit,” the big man murmured and looked over his shoulder. There were fires burning beyond the hill, some village Leuthard’s men had surprised. Most of his men were still out there, chasing refugees and scattering the forces that would try to resist. Leuthard cursed and whistled, his men turned and shouted to the darkness, and more Marcomanni ran up.

Woden helped us, or perhaps the Celt god, Teutates, tried to save Sparrow’s Joy, because out of the village, a battered party of ten Gauls jogged up, with Iodocus in charge. He saw me, his eyes glinted, and he looked relieved. I both blessed and cursed him, because he was supposed to hide until it was all over, and yet, he gave us hope. “At least I know where to find
him
after we beat them,” Gaius winked at me.

“We had a deal,” I told him with a withering look, and he shrugged and smiled.

Leuthard growled, the Marcomanni tightened into a massed shieldwall, and turned our way as Iodocus and the Romans huddled into a pathetic line, with me in the middle. They were men with broken shields, and most were hurt. Iodocus spat at Leuthard’s direction and leaned over to me. “You won? That was Fulch the Red’s standard we saw in the mud. Did you kill him?”

“I saw him wounded,” I answered. “Gaius here did the deed.”

“I’ll be wanting a word with you,” Gaius called. “As you know where my coins are, we’ll have to talk about that.”

“Oh! Iodocus knows that, does he?” Leuthard laughed, and Gaius cursed himself foully. The Marcomanni champion pointed his sword at my friend. “The silver and the gold, Iodocus. Then I’ll kill you honorably. You filthy thieves.”

“Us? Thieves? God’s bulls have smaller balls than you, liar. I spit on Bero’s silver,” I growled. “You framed me! You soiled me. You planted me in that hall to take the blame for your thievery. Gods know whom you killed before me. Some poor fool. No more dancing. Where is the Head Taker?”

He snorted. “Ah, so you were after
me
,” Leuthard growled. He lifted his sword, and pointed it at me. There was a feral, bloodthirsty look on his face. His skin was darker with rage, and he looked nothing like a human. “I tell you what, Chatti. Let us fight. You and I. Balderich saved you once, but he’s not here now. You beat me, and you’ll know everything, no? The lot can leave without armor and weapons. We’ve won already, and they know it.”

I looked around, saw the Celts practically shaking, licking their lips, sweat pouring out of their foreheads. The Romans looked sturdy, though they were grim and cursing under their breaths, but it would be the death of us if we fought a battle. I pointed the hammer at him. “You and me? Fine.” I felt shivers of terror as I agreed, and hoped I’d be able to fight well. I was sore and tired already.

Leuthard chuckled. “You and me indeed. Though it is hardly a fight of equals, and the poets will scald me for killing a child,” he smiled, mocking me, shaking his head. “Yes, why not. Child or not, I’ll give you this honor. A thief, murderer, and a Chatti liar doesn’t deserve it, no, but you’ll get it nonetheless.” His eyes turned to Iodocus. “He can help you. None else. In fact, he’ll
not
leave. He has to pay up and speak. He’ll tell me where Bero’s treasure is. Then I’ll cripple him, and set him free to the winds.”

Gaius spat, unhappy for being excluded from the deal. He took note of the thirty Marcomanni, then his four men, and the ten Gauls. Gods only knew how greed might have such a hold over a man, but it did.

He decided there would be a fight, but not between Leuthard and I.

He grasped a spear from a man near him. He lifted it expertly, and threw it with a grunt. It made a thrumming noise as it flew, and pierced a thigh of a Marcomanni right next to Leuthard.

Everyone stared at the Roman with shock.

Gaius made an obscene gesture with his hips. “We’ll stay, thank you,” he said cheerfully. “Shall we start?”

Leuthard looked at him balefully, mouthing curses. Then he nodded curtly. “Seems we shall
all
measure our worth this night.” He lifted his sword. He turned to his men, all of the Marcomanni who were grinning savagely, anticipating the battle, most all coveting the Romans and their expensive gear, a stuff of dreams for most of them. “Kill the lot. And leave those two alive,” He pointed his sword at Iodocus and me. “I’ll send them to the next world, personally.” The threat was made with a chilling certainty, but we had no more time to think about it. Gaius pulled me back, and we braced ourselves.

It was a desperate fight.

The Marcomanni rushed in with little heed for tactics, the fastest, savage men rushing to the shadows on our sides. That in itself was enough to break our shieldwall. The men on the ends backed off, and then the enemy crashed into us, pushing us into a ring of dying men. Roman gladius flashed in the press, it was designed for that, but the rest of us endured the terrible struggle, striking when we could.

Two Celts howled and fell immediately, one with a spear in his leg, another with a missing eye. Leuthard’s sword was coming for the Romans. It sang in the air, as the huge warrior struck down near me. Two Roman soldiers braced themselves, thrust their shields out to stop the huge warlord’s attack, but instead of letting the famed blade carve the leather, the huge man pushed himself into the middle of them with brutal savagery. He took a wound in shoulder, and while I saw he bled and that was comforting in a way, his move broke our ring. His shield thrust to left, knocking a Roman to be killed by a horde of Marcomanni, and the sword rang as it spattered a Celt so hard the skull was cut in half.

I hammered down a young warrior, then another, but suddenly a grizzled Marcomanni was there right in front of me, fast as an alf, and his fist came to my face. I tried to dodge, but Iodocus was pushed at me, and so I couldn’t. The fist was holding an ax hilt. The knuckles bashed into my temple, and I saw darkness briefly. I bit my tongue, spat blood, and fell on my back in the press, and crawled in the feet of the last of the Celts and Romans.

I saw Gaius bellowing like a crazy bull, his gladius slipping in, and out, in and out, killing unwary Marcomanni, and then Leuthard was there. The sword heaved, winged by a roar from the big man, scything for the Centurion, who threw his shield up, and the device was split as the Roman fell over me. I felt Leuthard’s foot on my back, heard him laugh savagely and spitefully over me. I knew I was about to be crippled, and felt the blood dripping from his sword on to my face.

A carnyx, a Celtic war horn, blared.

Its brazen, demanding, and deep voice boomed near, chilling the blood.

The Marcomanni stopped in their tracks, the few survivors of our band stopped retreating, and everything changed.

The ground rumbled. There were panicked Germani running in through the gates, weaponless. More screams spilt the darkness, desperate, chilling, and surprised. Horses were neighing. Many, many horses.

Thirty Celts rode in from the dark.

The grim Teutorigos led them and Seisyll was there, his eyes burning with vengeance. How long Teutorigos had been hiding in the woods of the land, I didn’t know, but he was there. He had brought his wealth with him to pay for his way back to the Mediomactri, and now he was a Marcomanni no longer. He wanted blood for Cerunnos. They were all heavily armed, armored; rich men and the best nobles in the land. My eyes sought Teutorigos, and he smiled at me coldly as his eyes turned to Leuthard. I decided all he wanted was revenge. Leuthard would die without a single word asked on the matter of Hulderic’s sword.

Leuthard pulled at his men, roared, and rushed to fight.

I pulled myself up, and hammered the weapon on a knee of the man who had hit me. He fell heavily, howling. He had been turning to join the shieldwall against the new threat, but it was too late to create such a defense. The Celts, well-supplied, fresh and mounted, tore into the Marcomanni standing over their victims.

Iodocus was there, near me, pulling me up. “Did they plan for this?” I asked him. “Teutorigos is here? Nobody said he’d be here!”

“He didn’t tell me, but I guess it makes sense,” he said softly, shocked at the sight of his lord.

‘’He cannot kill Leuthard!’ I yelled.

“Sure he can,” Iodocus murmured. “We cannot stop him.”

I saw Leuthard in the midst of his men, fighting like a spirit. The man growled like an animal, looked like it, his sword meeting the Celt nobles. Spears stabbed down at him, his men intercepted some, not all, but enough for the lord to hack high noblemen down, left and right. He howled and barked like a dog, as an ax struck his shoulder, but he pulled a man down from the horse. Many of the Marcomanni sawed and hacked at the legs of the horses, spilling Gauls off their saddles.

The chaos was total, men falling, dying, few more Gauls riding in. Leuthard pulled himself to an empty saddle, lost his shield as he did, and growled his frustration as his sword hacked at a stubborn, chainmail clad Celt noble, who failed to parry with his sword, and was ripped through his throat. Leuthard slapped the horse on the rump with the sword, and forced his way to Teutorigos, who spat and turned to meet him, holding a mace high.

Seisyll was there as well, the younger Celt armored head to knees in ring mail, and the two lords savagely attacked the charging Marcomanni. Men died in droves around them, many Marcomanni escaped to the shadows, but great many of the better men charged to guard their oath lord, Leuthard. The battle was fiercest around the lords of the war. Leuthard roared, and hacked at Seisyll, whose shield split. Teutorigos swung at the Marcomanni, but Leuthard grasped the weapon in the air and struggled with the old Celt. Seisyll hacked at Leuthard, but the famous sword intercepted the weapon.

I tried to make my way for the two lords, unsteady on my feet and spitting blood. My hammer claimed a life, then bowled over a man, and I continued my trek. The two large Celts still struggled with the evil warlord, who now had a shallow wound on his bald head. Teutorigos managed to free his mace, and swung it so hard on the side of Leuthard even the terrible man yelped and fell from the horse.

“Get him!” Seisyll roared. “Kill him now!”

“No!” I screamed, nearly there.

“Die, you bald cow-humper!” Teutorigos laughed, turning his horse and aiming the mace for the man who was getting up, spitting blood.

Leuthard roared.

He rushed to meet the weapon, and pulled the astonished Teutorigos from the saddle. A Celt staggered before me, thought I was a Marcomanni, and tried to stab me with a knife, but I swatted the hammer in his face, and he fell. When I saw the battle of the lords again, nobody was on a horse. Teutorigos was holding on to Leuthard’s chainmail. Seisyll was there, grasping on Leuthard’s arm. 

The Marcomanni champion seemed to ripple in his armor, his rage such it was impossible to contain. He charged low, grasped both armored lords by the waist, one for each huge arm, and like children, he pushed them back, back. He lifted them, and ran out of the gate, bumping into a horse, spilling the rider, and bowled over two astonished Celt warriors, and the warlords rolled into the darkness.

Some men yelled warnings, and few began to follow them. Spears were thrown, and in the chaos, Iodocus and I and two remaining Romans were rushing down after the enemy lords. Gaius was nowhere to be seen. We heard a mighty struggle going on down the muddy side of the hill. I passed Leuthard’s sword, then a broken, fine sword of Seisyll. Below, in a muddy pool, I witnessed a terrible sight. Seisyll, the mighty man was being held down by Leuthard, no longer a man. The Marcomanni’s face was a thing made of rage, his teeth gleaming redly, because he had bitten the Celt in the hand. His hand was tearing at Seisyll’s bleeding face, and I saw a bloody bit of meat ripped off, and the Celt screamed like a dying dog, high-pitched and horrified.