Maroboodus: A Novel of Germania (The Goth Chronicles Book 1) (17 page)

‘I know you will,’ she said with a strange, cold smile. ‘But now? Horses? What’s the plan?’

I stared at her for a moment, wondering at how confident she was. Her eyes were clear as the stars, and she nodded to coax an answer out of me. ‘I’m in a proper fix. I’m fleeing my father and the … Bear Goths. But the Black Goths expect me to come with them. I’m not. It’s just you and me, and him.’ I nodded at Aldbert and she frowned at the thought. ‘I think we need some men.’

‘They would slow us down,’ she said. ‘Best just rush. I know the woods.’

‘But if there will be fighting, wouldn’t it be best to rush with a band of men?’

She considered this and her face screwed with suspicion. ‘You have such men? You don’t look like a lord with oaths men. And adeling, and powerless one?’

‘I killed your captor and his chief. And … him.’ I nodded at Ludovicus.

‘Power, experience, and wealth are a different issue. Ability in battle is not the same as power and fame,’ she said with asperity. ‘You have no men, right?’

‘I know some desperate ones who would probably help us get you there safe. Though you might not like them.’

She blinked and her head cocked, and then she understood what I had been planning. ‘You don’t mean the Saxons?’ she whispered.

‘They would help, I’m sure, if we help them get home,’ I said. ‘I’ll fetch them and meet you.’

She chuckled and shook her head. ‘They are
Saxons
.’

‘They must appreciate the fact they won’t hang, no?’ We could use men,’ I said forcefully and she gave in.

‘Fine, you bull-headed fool. Your Aldbert and I shall meet you wherever it was you had agreed on and you get these …men. But I don’t want him armed.’ She was looking at the ax on Aldbert’s belt. I grunted with agreement, turned to Aldbert, and walked to him.

I poked a finger on his chest and he flinched as he saw my hand was bloody. ‘If she is not safely taken to the end of the beach, under the woods, I’ll not be happy, Aldbert. You be there, waiting.’

His eyes looked at me long and hard, and he was biting his lip, his eyes venturing to the girl. ‘She’ll be there. So will I.’

‘And I’ll have that,’ I told him, and grabbed the ax from his belt, and he looked away in shame. I hesitated, gave the ax to the girl and she took it, with wonder in her eyes. The weapon suited her. ‘He will still have a spear,’ I told her with some concern, but she shrugged.

‘As he said, I’ll be there,’ she told me forcefully. ‘And so will he. And if he tries something with his spear, I’ll cut off his balls.’

Aldbert opened his mouth to protest the sudden reversal of roles, but I was still suspicious of his role at all, so I didn’t care. I moved to the hall, eyed the shadows, and nodded at them. ‘Horses, and I’ll be there soon. Right?’

‘Right,’ Aldbert said and pointed to the door. She passed us, eyed the shadows like a fox looking for dangers, and looked back.

‘Be careful,’ she said with a smile and disappeared into the darkness, Aldbert in tow. I gave a last glance to the bloody hallway where all my doors had closed.

I
crossed a vegetable garden, slipping on something cold and rotten, pushed away a docile dog that was too nosy for its own good, young as it was, jumped over a well-concealed cellar and finally saw the hall. It was on the south edge of the village, near the harbor, like most of the important buildings. It would be half filled with poor Saxons formerly oath-bound to Cuthbert. I navigated shrubs, flitted from tree to tree like a cattle-thief, and then I spied the doorway to the hall. There was a man guarding it, though he too looked restless. He was fidgeting, clearly worried and wondering, and he walked to the corner of the hall every now and then to gawk at the white smoke that filled the night sky and he cursed audibly at the screams of men, who were trying to save the hall. Happily, it had been a wet month, so the sparks would not easily light the roofs, but Hughnot’s rogues would have done a good job and it was not likely to be put out anytime soon, if at all. I walked in the deepest shadows, praying the gods to heed my needs that night, positioning myself so I could see the man better, and the door.

It was latched. There was a heavy bar blocking it, but nothing else. The warrior came back to the doorway, then walked to the other side of the hall, gazed at the sea, then stopped to stare at the boats, trying to decide if we were under attack.

I would have to kill him.

I had just killed, but the thought made my belly churn with despair. He was a young man, his blond beard long and the Suebian knot was haphazardly tied. He walked back to the door, took a swig from a horn that had been set by the wall and put his spear away. Then he walked to the woods, towards me. I crouched as the man came forth and for a terrified moment, I thought he had seen me.

‘Donor’s lathered balls,’ I cursed under my breath. The man came to stand very near. I trembled with anticipation as he untied his pants and bent down to sit amidst the shrubs. He was taking a jotun-sized shit, judging by the smell that permeated the air. I wrinkled my nose as he voided himself and felt bad for the fact I was about to interrupt his happy moment, but perhaps he would live, if he didn’t fight. I sneaked forward, saw him there, holding his head with both hands, and then I kicked his back as hard as I could. His lungs emptied of air with a wheezing sound, he farted loudly and flew forward with a hoarse yell of surprise, and I was over him in an instant. He struggled briefly, writhing in pain, but then he saw the blade twinkling in the light next to his eye, resting on his throat. ‘What—‘

‘Move, and you take your next shit into a silver bucket in Asgaard,’ I hissed. ‘Do not move, and you will live to take another one later here in our world. Remember how fine it felt? You can have that again. Shout, and me and my friend here,’ I said, and decided to name the sword there, thinking it looked as dangerous as the beasts of the goddess Hel, ‘Hel’s Delight, will take your guts and trail them behind us as we run away, and that will not feel as pleasant as a good shit, my friend. Can’t fix ripped guts, no.’ I pressed the cold iron on his neck and he stiffened. ‘Hands behind your back.’ He obeyed and I took his rope belt, and spent too much time as I tied him tightly. While I did, I endured the stench, and begged I had not stepped in any of his excrement. ‘Gods, man, what have you eaten?’ I cursed as I bound his knees and ankles together.

‘Soup,’ he whispered. ‘It was something with lentils and it was somewhat rancid. I’m not rich.’ I patted his head and then gagged him with his tunic and made sure he could not easily hop away.

I got up, and knew I was trembling with fear as I eyed the door. I approached it and hesitated, and then I lifted the bar, which was a bit stuck, and threw it aside after a small struggle.

I stepped in.

Inside there were shingles burning in the fire pit. There was a smell of farts and sour ale drifting on the air, as well as the stench of unwashed bodies. There was also the stink of rotten wounds and I looked carefully around as eighteen men, shadows really, got up and two remained lying down. They were a gangly, savage lot, unkempt and perhaps afraid, but like a wolf might fear, ready to claw and savage the one trying to hurt it. Most were strong from their time in oars, calloused and callous Germani, and formerly covered with riches and fame. The beastlike crew stared at me with uncertain frowns, most looking over my shoulder expecting to see armed men come in after me, but none came and it puzzled them. They must have thought about this scene a dozen times an hour, waiting to be taken out to be judged, sacrificed, sold, and generally dealt with. Few would go home. I briefly bit my lip as I stepped forward, trying to hold my composure and the sword, Hel’s Delight, was on my side. One, a Saxon with curly, long hair stepped forward, glancing at the blade greedily.
Thieves, the lot of them
, I thought. Perhaps the girl had been right. ‘Are you,’ the Saxon asked with a spiteful voice, ‘here to find sacrifices for your feast? We are oar-bound men, tough as iron. Saxons, boy, that’s what we are and well should you know we don’t bend down for rutting. None shall volunteer, so you will have to—’

‘Who is the leader amongst you?’ I asked and cursed as I spoke too quickly. Our accents were close, we could speak, but I didn’t want to sound like a fool to them. I needed their respect.
They might find Ludovicus at any moment
, I thought frantically, and so I slapped my blade on my thigh. ‘Well?’ I demanded.

They whispered amongst themselves. Finally, the curly-haired man stepped forward and thumbed his chest. ‘Ceadda. That is I. I lead them, for now. I fought for a champion of the dead lord and I am the best of them.’ His eyes crossed and he looked like a dog as he sniffed the air, smelling my sweat, but perhaps also my fear and hesitation. ‘You are a Marcomanni. A pup?’

I balled my fist and he grinned in the dark. He had a thick beard, I noticed, and a rich belt, that had not been taken from him and that meant he was likely a brave man indeed, one who was given some measure of respect and dignity, even in a hall turned prison. ‘Yes, I’m young. But if you wish to insult me, at least call me
the
Pup.’

He thumbed the north wall. ‘We saw you. No disrespect meant. We were looking from the cracks as you fought. You downed that ugly berserker, right?’

Another lanky and gaunt man pointed at my torn pant that had a smear of some crusted blood. ‘Yes, it’s the redheaded, baby-faced one. The hole-digger.’

‘It was a good hole,’ I growled and they all laughed like a pack of demented spirits, and none judged me for the hole. They were raiders, and even if honor and fame were as important to them as they were to our people, these men had fewer scruples than ours and accepted that many ways lead to glory.

‘That is Njord,’ Ceadda said. ‘My brother. I think he is, and Father claimed it is so, despite the way he looks, misshapen and ugly. Gods piss on some of us, and bless others.’

Njord spat on the floor, and he did look strange, with large white teeth and thick lips and he certainly didn’t look like Ceadda, though they clearly loved each other well. ‘What do you want, pup?’ Njord asked, his eyes large. ‘Got lost?’

‘I am not lost,’ I said steadily, trying to keep the situation under my control, which was of course as likely as stopping the tide with a prayer and a wish. ‘I am the son of Hulderic the Goth, lord of the … Bear Goths and I killed your chief in the battle, perhaps two. I threw a spear at Cuthbert, and while I didn’t finish him, he was grievously wounded. I—‘

‘Floundered in mud as that Maino killed our lord. Being a fool, pup, is what you were,’ Ceadda said. ‘Not sure why you come here to tell us you are the one who took our future? Come to clear your conscience?’

I fumed for a moment and then went on. ‘I have none. I also slew a chief who killed Friednot. I killed him when he ran into my spear.’

‘Did he see the spear?’ Njord asked with amusement, chuckling and I didn’t bother answering and turned to Ceadda instead.

I nodded to the north wall. ‘And yea, I fought Maino. I tell you these things, because I want you to know who stands before you. I’m young, but I have done well. Woden wouldn’t spit on my face, should I proclaim my deeds to him—‘

‘
We
might,’ Ceadda said cheerfully. ‘We don’t care who you are, pup. Don’t care for your glory. Yeah, you fought well, but we won’t sing your praises to the gods and Valkyries when they come. You’ll see bravery soon enough. We do not go easily to our deaths, and if you think we’d be sacrificed to the gods like lambs, even to celebrate your … glory, you have a thing or two coming. Saxons are not soft people afraid of taking some Goths with them to the afterlife. We shall row together, merrily across the dead seas.’

‘Neither are the Goths soft fools,’ I growled. I turned the sword in my hand, so the blade flickered, and it was not lost on them, as their eyes hardened. I breathed steadily, and relaxed. ‘I am not here to take you to Woden’s stone, or to be hanged for some fool vitka’s pleasure, no. Not yet, at least, and should something like that take place, at some point, it will happen somewhere else. And I might join you in such a fate.’

Ceadda eyed me and stepped forward until I could see him properly. His hand was clutching his side, as if trying to find a weapon he had been accustomed to holding there, but there was nothing on his belt and his hand was clutching air, repeatedly. I stepped out, grabbed the hasta, the heavy spear of the guard, and came back in. The Saxon looked at me and shrugged. ‘You are here for yourself, yes? Where is the guard? He pissed in our food, you know.’

‘He has paid for it,’ I told him with simple bravado and he snickered nastily. It was like dealing with a snarling beast, but his mirth had a hopeful note, and the rest of the Saxons were looking at each other, surprised. ‘Yes, I am here for myself and for causes of my family, but first I have to do a very hard thing. Already have, in fact.’

‘What do you really want from us?’ Njord asked with openmouthed curiosity.

‘I’m in need of a guard and perhaps a crew. I’m leaving this place. I’m an adeling without a home and would find a new one. In the end,’ I said with a ferocious smile, ‘if you lot survive, you can go home and join some other crew of raiders next year. And if my plans for a new home fail, I’ll row with you.’ I had not told that to the girl or Aldbert. I needed the Saxons to give me a chance for an escape, should everything go wrong.

Ceadda nodded as if what I was offering was the most natural thing in the world and tugged at his long beard. ‘So, you tell us we will give you oaths of service until you are happy and settled in your new home. Where is that, if I may ask?’

I nodded towards the west. ‘The girl.’

‘A girl? That’s not a home,’ he snickered. ‘We cannot find you a girl, boy. Do we look like ones to hide girls in here? You came to the last place in Marka to find a—’

Njord grunted angrily. ‘
The
girl, you damn fool. He’s talking about the Svea princess. He wants to elope with the
damned
girl.’

‘Oh!’ Ceadda said with sudden, horrified understanding. ‘That sort of a tragedy, eh?
That
girl,’ he said emphatically, ‘was the bane of our lord. She will be yours, perhaps.’

‘She’s a girl, you brave Saxon,’ I mocked him. ‘What’s there to fear?’

He waved his hand towards the Svea lands. ‘You’ve not been out there, have you? We only went there for her, and a fine promise in treasure. I—‘

‘The Boat-Lord would have offered you cows, boats, slaves, even gold and silver for her, no? You went there to steal her away, because you knew she had been promised to the great Goth by the Svea.’

‘Oh, ho! You know a lot for a pup with wet ears, don’t you? Yes, perhaps. I don’t know how exactly Cuthbert heard of the deal the Svea and your Goth enemy made, but your Friednot did as well, and also heard of our plans. Probably had spies where we have them. He surprised us, didn’t he? But her village is a strange place, the people are queer and I will not say more about it.’ His words left me uneasy, and I faltered and wondered if I should take her across the sea instead, and build a life there, after all. Then I shrugged, and knew I could not. She didn’t seem like the sort of a woman who would appreciate a man who steered away from rushing, raging torrents for the comfort of the calmer waters. She’d expect I keep my word, indeed.

‘I’m taking your captive back to her home. I don’t really know a lot about the west, you are right, but I will tap into your well of hard-won wisdom.’

‘Shit,’ Njord said softly, rubbing his temple. ‘Not again. This had been a terrible week, hasn’t it? Cuthbert’s mother always told him not to seek out trouble with the wicked Svearna, but he did, and his curse is ours.’

I ignored his ominous words. ‘And you will guard us as we travel where she would go. I will—’

‘You will marry into power, eh?’ Ceadda said with almost fatherly desperation. He leaned closer. ‘I like you, lad. You would probably do well in the shieldwall and pulling at our oars, you would, and I smell determination born of desperation in you, you know? You are a man who tries to make things better, no matter the obstacle.’ He pointed towards the village and withdrew his hand as if it was terrible luck to invoke her name. ‘But this obstacle? That terrible kitten? She caused our lord to go mad. Utterly crazy. Marching through your Goth lands to capture the future wife of the Boat-Lord? Mad. We had men, but never enough to pull it off, and he should have known it. He didn’t and went ahead anyway, and every moment from the minute he saw her, to the minute he died holding her, our lord was as desperate as you. His face was gray, his voice weak, he was feverish, and stared at her like a faithful, stupid dog would stare at a cruel mistress who never feeds it. Now you would take eighteen men to the west on her behalf? Mad, mad. Here we are, all men you have been told are like animals. We are Germani like you, Suebi all, but still pirates and raiders. You think we fear nothing? We do. You want us to go back there, but perhaps we are not so desperate? There is nothing there, Goth, that promises a better end than we might get here. We would die less tired here, to be honest. Won’t have to run from a nation of Goths, and Svearna both.’