Adalwulf: The Two Swords (Tales of Germania Book 1) (27 page)

I saw Teutorigos.

The old man was charging for the beast with his mace, limping. His nose was broken, lips shredded, but still he fought. He was coming with a vengeance, with tears and pain, as he wanted to kill the slayer of his son so desperately, he cared nothing for his life. He’d kill Leuthard, because the beast had not quit with his butchery of Seisyll, and seem oblivious to his peril.

I got down to the fight, and without thinking, I swung the weapon.

The hammer struck down.

It split the skull of Teutorigos so savagely, his neck broke, and he fell into a heap of bloody armor and bones.

Horrified, I was staring at what I had done, and only by instinct did I survive, as Leuthard bounded off Seisyll’s twitching body, holding a rock. The swinging stone went past my face. After it missed, he kicked Iodocus so hard, my friend fell down, breathless, a helpless heap of meat. I tried to intercept Leuthard who would no doubt kill him, but the maniac jumped at two surprised Romans who had followed us down.

The rock went up, came down and a Roman fell, a hole in the bloody helmet. The other one stabbed his weapon down at Leuthard’s back, making Leuthard howl with pain. The beast kicked the Roman’s leg out from under him, and pummeled over the man, hammering his face with the rock. He jumped up before I could move, fluidly like a lynx. His face was dark, eyes deep in his skull, his mouth bloody as he turned to look at me. I prayed to Woden, whimpered with terror. Leuthard was not there, but something else, a soulless monster.

Iodocus hurtled from behind. He clutched his hands around the man, and pushed Leuthard, just a few steps, and the champion raised his rock in fury as he whirled to slay Iodocus.

I had a small chance and shedding the fear, I took it. I jumped forward for the back of the huge lunatic, and heaved the hammer down at what I thought was his back.

It connected with the skull.

He tottered, fell over Iodocus, and went still, convulsing. I fell on my knees, trying to catch my breath, begging to Woden the horrible monster would not get up. I saw men surround us, heard Marcomanni retreating to the darkness while being chased. To my surprise, I saw Seisyll stagger to the sight, holding the huge chunk of his missing face. There was a mass of red meat and skin on his fist, dripping blood, and I saw hair there as well. I shuddered at the sight of him. It was dark and shadowy in the battlefield, but where his eye, cheek, and part of his lips were supposed to be, was a bleeding dark wound.

“You killed my kin,” he lisped, tears flowing from terrible pain and shock. You could see his bloodied teeth through torn skin and flesh. “You struck him down, I saw you!”

I pointed a finger at Leuthard. “He must live, lord,” I explained. “It was the deal.”

He was not sane, savaged by pain, and cared little for past deals. “Yes,” he agreed with a hiss. “He must live, so I can device a way to slay him as painfully as possible. I’ll need the imagination of the wicked gods to come up with something that will amuse me. I’ll try. I’ll try. And I piss on your lord’s sword, Adalwulf. You Marcomanni shit! You shall join this one in his coming dance. Both Germani, both bastards.”

His eyes sought Iodocus and Gaius, who had arrived there at the worst possible moment. I saw Gaius was cursing under his breath, taking steps back and Iodocus did as well. Without any given command, the Celts knew what Seisyll wanted, and they were grasped by a horde of men. More men rushed me and took my weapon off me.

Seisyll pointed a quivering, bloody finger at the hammer. “That weapon belongs to Teutorigos. He’ll sleep in my hall for a while, and we’ll bury him with honor and the hammer. Aye, and find Leuthard’s sword. It shall be at his feet.” He gazed up hill where the Feud Settler had fallen. He whirled and spat at us. “Lock them up in the cellar. Over there.” He pointed at a set of such dug-in doors on the hillside. “Bind them, legs and feet. Guard them. All of them. Even the southern thief. I’ll not have Romans meddle in my affairs any longer, nor shall I pay you any more taxes.” Iodocus opened his mouth, but Seisyll slapped him. “Iodocus, you bastard, you worked for that Hulderic as much as you ever did for us. So join them.”

“I don’t deny it,” Iodocus said darkly.

“All four. Lock them up. Chase the Marcomanni far away. Kill all you find!” Seisyll shrieked, and fell to the arms of his men, who started to carry him up the hill.

They took our weapons, tied us up and dragged us after Seisyll, and veered aside near the cellars, and showed us inside one, just outside Sparrow’s Joy. It was a large, empty one, no doubt used for imprisoning men before. They shoved Leuthard there with us, dragged him past us, and dropped him at the end of the cellar. His head was bleeding, his eyes were half open, and he spat as the Celts left.

I squirmed and sat my back against a wall, eyeing the shadows, where Leuthard sat.

He was not human, I decided, but at least he probably lived.

Though that didn’t matter, since we were in deep trouble.

Unless my little plan worked.

“
They say a true Brethren can die once and come back”

The priest to Adalwulf

T
he bindings on our wrists and ankles chafed uncomfortably. We were silent as mice, listening to each other breathe. The moist cellar made Iodocus cough, breaking the silence.

“Thank you,” I told him. “For distracting him.” I could see his shadow, and he was nodding.

“Oh, to think a thin man could bring down Leuthard,” he chuckled, mocking the large man at the end of the cellar. “Who would have thought?” We gazed at the dark corner, but Leuthard had no opinion on that.

“Did you find the coins?” I asked Iodocus.

He grunted. “I did. They had left the sacks on the table. I think there was drool over the coins. I gathered and hid it.” We heard the mad, greedy Roman shift, and Iodocus murmured. “It’s as safe as it can get.”

I saw Gaius lift his head, and a shadow of a wry smile. My eyes were growing accustomed to the semi-darkness. Some light filtered in from the badly crafted and fitted door. The Roman spoke, his voice strained. “Coins. Treasures. Damned if it hasn’t been costly for us. But it will be worth it. Poor lads, though.”

“Perhaps you should have thought about them before you threw that spear,” I growled. “And what do you mean it
will
be worth it?”

He chortled. “It will, just wait and see. And as for that spear, I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the party poor. The boys would understand. I know they wanted a share as well. They braved their life for a better one.”

“Did any of your men survive, Gaius?” Iodocus asked, probably hoping for a rescue, though it would certainly mean rescue only for the centurion.

“His name is not Gaius,” Leuthard growled from the dark. We looked at the shadow in the end of the hole, expecting him to be standing up, unbound, ready to rip us apart. But no, he was still tied down. The wolf’s head in his chain mail glinted redly as he shifted.

“Is that right?” I asked the Roman. “What are you, I wonder. Are you even Roman? Perhaps a goblin?”

He snorted. “Fine. Enough with the Gaius shit. My name is Decimus Caecina,” the Roman said unapologetically. “I go by Gaius to the locals, so when they complain, they’ll make fools of themselves. And the women, you know how that is. You don’t give them your own name when you bed them. They’ll come weeping with a baby one day, and you don’t want to be found before you can escape. Would be a nasty surprise that, especially if you were married, fat, and happy.” We looked at him with disgust, but he didn’t notice, and likely wouldn’t have cared anyway. “But I guess this is as bad as it gets, and I’ll share my name with my prisoner friends. You won’t survive to use it against me. And, no, none of the boys survived.” I saw him gaze towards the end of the cellar, where the killer sat. He was a thief, a bastard, but also a brave soldier. His eyes spoke of a wish to slay.

“Shit,” I breathed, struggling with the bonds. “Stuck with a thin Celt, a Roman thief, and an animal.” I pulled at the bindings with my teeth.

“Don’t bother,” Decimus chuckled, as he saw my struggles. “They did an excellent job with the knots.’ His voice was almost bored, but there was an undercurrent of anger there, like a cold breeze on otherwise perfectly warm summer day. He was inspecting the bonds. “Thick as giant’s turd, these ropes. Would take a very hungry man to chew through them.”

Iodocus had not let go of hope yet. “Are your superiors not looking for you? How long have you been serving in Gaul?”

Decimus snorted. “Stories to pass the time? Why not? A
long
time, Celt. I’ve been with the legions for fifteen years now. And, no, they won’t expect me back anytime soon. I left a century in the tower I’m in charge of, and the optio and the tessarius are both lazy as mules. Probably thank Juppiter I’m delayed. Likely won’t have the brains to suspect anything’s wrong, even if I’m week late. I’ll get back before they know to miss me.”

I shook my head. “There you go again. Thinking you’ll be out of here. Fifteen years, eh? You don’t look that old. Much younger, in fact. Looks won’t help with a spear in your ass, though,” I said maliciously. I hated the greedy bastard. “You’ll die here with the rest of us.”

He chuckled. “Spear in my rear. How poetic. Yes. I suppose Seisyll will invent something crude like that. Celts know how to do these things properly. Saw the remains of a man once. The druid had lathered him in honey and left him draped over an anthill. But I don’t know. Seisyll’s a bit thick. No imagination, I bet. He said he’ll think of something special, but I doubt he can.”

“It won’t matter—” Iodocus began.

Decimus didn’t seem to hear him. He was stroking his face. “But thank you for boosting my ego. I do look young. I do. I look as handsome as sober Bacchus, don’t I? That’s what the girls say. That mad woman in this village did as well. What was her name? Elisedd? Never mind. I had some fun with her when I last visited. She’s lovely, and the mad ones really know how to have good time, if you know what I mean?” He squinted his eyes. “I think you do. Which one of you? Both? Gods, I’m sorry I’ll never get to know you better. You seem like an entertaining pair.” He looked at us with sympathy. “You wouldn’t know what it feels to be adored, but trust me, it is a fine thing to have looks. I’m made up of a good stock, you see,” he laughed. “In our part of Italy, we live for quite a while, and grow to look like young gods.” He sounded superbly proud of the fact.

I shook my head with disgust. “That’s about to change. They’ll bury your bones in pig shit, and none shall know if you deserted. None are looking for you?”

“None,” he said. “But I’ll survive this. As I said.”

He was infuriating. “You’ll die weeping, pretty boy.”

Iodocus echoed my sentiment. “You won’t walk out of this one,” he said with relish. “If Seisyll is unable to come up with a solution, they’ll find a druid, just like you just described. Honey and ants. Or they’ll take that pretty face from you, minute by minute, and use rough bark on the raw meat while you moan like a virgin. In the end, they’ll pack you inside a bundle of hay, string you up, and Taranis and Cerunnos will smile as they’ll douse you with tar, and light you up.”

“Nothing of the sort will happen to me,” the man still claimed. “I’ll go back to my tower and then Moganticum to explain where my men died. All I have to do is to tell Seisyll I left word with the optio on where I was headed, and there will be a cohort here digging around, should I not appear. It will take time, but Seisyll’s got too much to lose. He might be ugly now, but he’ll find the desire to live later, after he has doused his thirst for blood with you lot. And if he dies,” Decimus laughed, “there will be another man here, one who knows better than to commit a suicide. In the meantime, I’ll just consider this a small break from duty.” He fixed a calculative eye on Iodocus. “You’ll see. He’ll save me for the last, because he
knows
he cannot kill me.”

“You are a fool,” Iodocus laughed.

Decimus leaned forward. “Tell you what, Celt. I’ll pull your rear out of the tar-pit. You will go with me, and we’ll promise Seisyll he’s going to be spared. We’ll ride together to Moganticum. There I’ll have a chat with the primus pilus of my legion, he’ll pull the sleeve of the camp prefect, and together, they’ll whisper something to the legate. I’m sure this episode will disappear into history as we make a grave mound of the Sparrow’s Joy. We’ll split the coins, eh? Or you’ll get some, at least. What say you?”

Iodocus shifted, about to curse the man, but kept his mouth shut. The wily Celt was probably thinking of a way to save my ass. At least that’s what I hoped. I didn’t know him that well, after all. The Roman said nothing more, having thrown the fishing line.

“I think the lord might die of that wound indeed,” Iodocus said at length. “He’s in no shape to enjoy our executions. Hope they remember to feed us.”

Leuthard chuckled softly, and I could see Iodocus regretted talking about food. There was a predator amongst us. We all looked at the shadows where Leuthard was seated, and I’m sure we all thought of the possibility of Leuthard freeing his hands and feet there in the dark if we slept. We would be waking up with him leering over us. The beastly Marcomanni sat still, saying nothing more.

We sat in the silence, and despite Leuthard, we fell asleep, one-by-one.

I woke up with a start. I felt dizzy and disoriented, but realized something was happening outside.

A guard was speaking. He was outside the door, not too far, and seemed grateful, laughing softly. He was probably being relieved.

Then, there was a dull thump, a sharp groan, and something fell heavily against the door. A spear rattled on a stone. Another thump, a vile curse, and then hissed whispers. “Stay still, you gangly turd,” the voice said, and there was third thump. Shadows flickered outside the doorway.

A latch was lifted.

“Shit,” Iodocus whispered.

Decimus sat up, grinned at us, and looked ready to argue his case.

The door opened.

Decimus shut his mouth with a loud clanking sound.

“Shut up,” Elisedd said, as she entered the cellar with a torch. She also had a spear. We were fluttering our eyes at the sudden onslaught of light, reluctant to look away with the fear of men coming in after her to take us out, but unable to face the glaring torch light fully. We kept our eyes half open, water running down our cheeks, and stared up at the figure that came further in, holding the torch aloft.

“A sorry looking bunch of misfits,” she whispered. “And no doubt very sorry about our recent past, eh?”

The dark-haired woman was wearing a woolen cloak, a Celt tunic called leine, and held the spear tightly in her other hand. She smiled wickedly at the sight of Decimus, whose lips were pursed in a strangest way, half surprised, half hopeful, and a bit terrified. “Well. Gaius. Finally remember me? The whore?”

“His name is Decimus,” Iodocus said helpfully. “In case you are with a baby, remember his name. Decimus Caecina.”

“Oh?” she asked with an unsurprised voice. “He lied about his name? I’ve been calling him love, and he’s been a filthy liar, has he?”

“Said he doesn’t want any old flames finding him one day,” Iodocus smiled sympathetically.

“I might let you walk out of here, Iodocus,” she purred. “You seem a decent sort. Never lied to me, did you? But perhaps you’ll leave without your balls, because you must know you made some mistakes with Elisedd. Thank you.”

“I’m—“ Decimus began.

“Relax,” she said and plopped down next to him. “Seems my husband died.”

“Fighting bravely,’ Decimus said. “No doubt a hero.”

“He died fleeing the hill with women and children,” she said, her eyes seeking the darker wall of the cellar, and there we saw Leuthard’s shadow sitting, sibilant, silent, brooding and watching. “To that one’s men.”

“I lost my men as well,” Decimus said miserably, looking down, but she wasn’t in a sympathetic mood.

She was nodding. “You did. Even the young man they left in my care.”

He eyed her, then us. “The guard. That boy, young—” he tried.

“I slashed his throat,” she confirmed, a gleam in her eyes as she played with his hair. “And that means you have no help, no hope, and no prospects to make it out of this alive, correct?” she asked him gently.

“He thinks he will be set free by Seisyll,” I said.

She didn’t react. She was looking at Decimus dreamily. Decimus looked satisfactorily terrified, though we were all in the same mad boat. Perhaps Seisyll sent her there to torment us? But, no, she had killed a guard. The woman put a finger over Decimus’s mouth. “You were supposed to come in, take the Marcomanni treasure, and we were to split it up and love each other.”

“Legionnaires cannot marry,” Decimus said softly, but it did him not good.

She ignored that as well. “I turns out you didn’t have a heart, and you broke mine. So did many other men;” she said acidly, and I saw Iodocus was praying, “but you, perhaps most of all. I put
all
my faith in you.”

I cleared my throat. “I was asleep, Elisedd. Didn’t know what was happening. You sat over me, and I would have refused. Perhaps you could just let me go?”

The woman turned to look at me. She frowned, and thrust the torch near my face. I retreated. “Shut up, Marcomanni, Chatti, or whatever you are. You, too, Iodocus. I’m here to chat with my friend here. I have no intention to let any of you leave here.” She put down the spear, pulled a dagger, and placed it under Decimus’s throat. “You are an evil man, Roman. Not only a thief, but also an evil bastard, woman-breaking monster. I’ll make sure you torment no living girl again.” She pressed it on his skin. “Hopefully no dead ones either. They’ll lock you up in Hades, won’t they? They’ll make dice out of your filthy nuts.”