The Wald (21 page)

The old woman leaned over the
young woman to read the sticks.  She mumbled some of her incomprehensible words and then reached in the sack a second time.  The soothsayer repeated the motions she had just made until more bones lay scattered on the girl.  The crook-backed woman again leaned in to read what the gods were telling her through the placement of the bones.

All at once she dropped her now-empty satchel on the cloak next to the nude woman and took a spry step backward.  The priestess untied her own crude cloak so that the hood and all fell to the ground behind her.  She too was completely naked.  Only a thinly smeared covering of woad-dyed clay adorned her sagging skin from her neck to her knees.  She snatched the cane and held it above her head with both arms, bending it until it snapped in two.  The cracking sound pierced the quiet of the cold forest night.
  It scared a tiny creature which made a skittering sound in the fallen leaves behind Adalbern.

“I have cast the bones and the forest gods have seen that I read them.”  She spoke quietly in a voice that sounded like two hard
-headed rocks grated against one another.  It seemed the volume of her voice trailed even lower as she spoke, making the male onlookers lean in, enraptured further by her words and the scene.  “The Sugambrians and Cheruscans will fight together no matter the decision made by the men of her tribes tonight.  The gods have foretold it.”

“Yes!” shouted Adalbern while slapping his son in his back so hard that the boy almost toppled into the soft mud of the bog.

“And you, Adalbern of the Sugambrians, will see much success and much sorrow.”

“Aye!  But how is that any different from any other day?”  The warlord was giddy with the prospect of help against the Romans.  All the other men around the bog laughed along with him.  Even the more thoughtful Segimer allowed his mirth to take hold of him and
laughed.  Kolman had a deep set frown.

The old woman held her gaze on Adalbern, until he was completely unsettled to the point of asking, “Priestess, I’ve never known a seer to stop talking so swiftly.  What more do you have to say?”
  He ended with a belch.

“
Ermin, son of Segimer of the Cheruscans will see much success and much sorrow.  He will kill Romans.  He will kill for the Romans.  He will kill Romans.”

Ermin called to the priestess, “Kill for the Romans?”

She ignored him, “Berengar, son of Adalbern of the Sugambrians will much success and much sorrow.  He will kill Romans.  He will kill Sugambrians.  He will kill Romans.”

Berengar became incensed.  “Sugambrians?  Never.”

“Boys!” shouted Segimer.  “The way of the gods and the priestess is often filled with riddles.  It’s best not to worry about some of her words, as frightening as they appear.  The crux of the matter is that you will both kill Romans – a good thing, no?”  The Cheruscan warlord turned again to the old woman.  “Priestess, what of the union?  Will an alliance of Cheruscans and Sugambrians see the Romans defeated?” asked Segimer.

The old woman ran a finger bent with age along the center of her chest where the blue-colored clay was still moist.  She bent down to the young naked woman and drew an arcing blue line from the girl’s eye, over her cheek, and down her chin.  The priestess replenished the finger with more clay and drew a line from one the woman’s resting breasts to her navel.  With a grunt she straightened herself up.

“Yes,” she hissed.

“Well that should settle it, Segimer,” called Adalbern across the bog.  “We could talk with the seer all night, but it will change nothing.  I need your answer.  Will you join us?”

Segimer was nodding thoughtfully with his hands on his hips.  “I think the omens we’ve seen today and what the priestess has told us ought to secure an alliance.  She has said herself that our decision tonight matters not.  Why should we argue that?  We ought to join.”

Kolman answered, “The woman has
only seen a possible future.  We may change it.  The Romans may change it.  Segimer,” the man pleaded, “we must open ourselves up to the possibility that they cannot be defeated.  They train their soldiers in an uninterrupted manner for years upon years.  How will we win?  Isn’t it worth sending an envoy to negotiate our terms before we raise up arms against them?”

“No!” shouted Adalbern.  “I am sorry, Segimer, but I must answer this.
”  He walked out into the bog, slogging with drunken, heavy steps through the black mud, to stand before Kolman.  “You cannot negotiate with them, or anyone else for that matter, from a position of weakness.  You must first demonstrate strength.”  Adalbern spat onto the rock where Kolman was perched.  The wad of spittle slapped the smooth surface between Kolman’s feet.

“Or,” shot Kolman
as he jabbed a finger into Adalbern’s chest, “we may meet them in battle and demonstrate that we are weaker than they.  Then any terms we offer will be rightly ignored.”

“Are you a coward, Kolman?  Should I not waste any more of my time with you?”
asked Adalbern throwing his hands in the air.

Segimer barked, “I assure you
Adalbern, that Kolman is no coward.  He offers caution and there is wisdom in that.”

The big man huffed, exasperated. 
Adalbern mumbled, “Caution is for the man who finds himself with the shits at his wedding.”  He spun, looking dizzily into the circle of men for his son.  “Berengar!” Adalbern barked.

“Father?”

“Your pouch – bring it here and show these men what it contains.”

Berengar scurried across the bog, kicking up clumps of mud along the way.  He pulled open a pack that was slung around a shoulder and his neck.  With two hands he lifted out the Fifth Legion’s gold eagle standard that he had taken in his very first encounter with them.  Every Cheruscan eye around the swamp was fixed on its glittering in the torchlight.

“Good boy.”  Adalbern tousled his hair, resting his great hand on the boy’s head.  “Now say the words that will convince even this man Kolman.”

“Yes
, father.  Five winters ago when I was but a boy,” even Adalbern chuckled at that, “we came upon the Roman Fifth Legion after several weeks of foraging for food and plunder in Gaul.  You may have already heard the story for it is famous among all the Sugambrians.  I imagine it has come to your people as well.  When you fight against the legions you quickly learn that they value this lump of metal shaped as a bird of prey.  They fight for it.  They honor it.  I took it with their javelins and arrows falling around me.  We carry this standard as a reminder to us all that the Romans are just men.  They are like Sugambrians or Cheruscans if you like.  Their lungs cry out for air like ours.  And when we bleed them on the battlefield, they cry for their mothers, as do our men.  Tonight you look at several of the Sugambrian men who bloodied them badly five winters ago.  Just one winter ago we bloodied them badly, twice – the first time at the Rhenus, the second time at the Amisia.  How much more will we be able to do if we unite with the most powerful of tribes?”

Adalbern bristled when his son placed the rival tribe ahead of his own.  The boy ignored him, waiting quietly while the Cheruscan chiefs considered his argument.

“The boy has a point, Kolman,” said Segimer.

“He makes more than a point, Segimer,” retorted Kolman.  “He made
an impassioned speech that would move any man to his side.”

“Ha!” said Adalbern
, poking Kolman in the chest.

“Wait Adalbern,” continued Kolman.  “I am not any man.  Will a passionate talk move the gigantic Roman fleet?”

“A fleet that this infallible General Drusus almost sunk on his own without a single enemy soldier within a six day ride.  Surely you’ve heard that story by now.  They are just men!  We can and must beat them!”

To his horror, Kolman saw that all the Cheruscan men who stood around on the flat rocks
that dark night grunted and cheered for the Sugambrian chief and his boy.  Kolman was no coward, but he knew enough about men to know when it was time to ally with the winning position.  But he wasn’t done yet.

“Segimer, if you say we fight, I’ll support you in every way, on one condition.”

“Name it,” said Adalbern and the Cheruscan noble at the same time.

“If these men can also bring in the Suebians and at least one of the southern tribes, then I will proudly carry my sword against the Romans.”

Segimer smiled broadly.  “That sounds like a compromise worth agreeing with to me.  But Adalbern is the one who has to do the work.  What is your answer?  Or maybe it’s Berengar we should ask.”

“We’ll do
it,” father and son answered.

“And the Suebians shall get whatever gold or silver we plunder from the Romans to help pay for their losses a generation ago.  The Sugambrians will take slaves from the Roman ranks.  And best of all I believe it is appropriate that every horse should go to our new allies, the Cheruscans.”  Adalbern was warm and giddy from the ale and his success.  He figured that being
magnanimous was a fitting way to seal the results of the conference.  The Cheruscans gave him a cheer.

“There is one last thing,” Adalbern went on
when the applause and shouting died down.  “Who is that beautiful naked lass with the hills and dales that can make a man weep?”

Every last man, even his son, laughed the kind of rolling laugh that starts in a man’s belly until it has unwound itself through every part of his body.  Segimer snorted until tears came to his eyes.  Barely able to speak, he said, “Adalbern,
either Sugambrian warlords have a taste that is unique to their own or you have had much too much ale.  The naked woman is our priestess, who goes by the name, Rike.  If you are interested in taking another bride, I may be able to make the arrangements, but I caution you she’s a little worn and can be difficult to tame.”

The men continued their laughter.  Utterly confused, Adalbern turned to look at the women between the two posts.  He blinked a time or two before realizing that the old woman was alone, standing above a tattered blanket set on the bog.  The blanket was empty except for the bones that spotted its surface
and two curving lines of blue clay that had been drawn on it.

He felt a hand on his back.  “Come father
, let’s get some rest.  I think you have had too much ale.  My mother would surely leave you for even the likes of Gundahar if you brought home that creature.”

. . .

One day after Adalbern and his Sugambrian representatives left to meet with the Suebians, Kolman kissed his daughter Thusnelda on her forehead.  “I saw the way you looked at Ermin yesterday after he came back with tales of adventure and glory.  Just remember that those are just that, stories.  They happened to be sure, but there’s more to when a boy grows into a man than excitement.  He has to use his mind too.”

“Yes
, father,” answered the girl, who only vaguely understood what Kolman talked about.

Kolman looked somber then added, “Just don’t allow yourself or your heart to get swept away as you get older.  I’ll have a fitting husband set aside for you soon enough.”

The happy girl smiled, her red curls dancing on her head while she bobbed from one bare foot to the next.  Her mind had already moved on to whatever small girls dream of, but Thusnelda had enough respect of her father to say, “Yes, father.”  She spun on her heel and hopped off to where her mother worked on her warp-weighted loom.  Kolman sighed, wondering if his talk had done any good or if the girl would be like her mother and stubbornly chase after the man she wanted.  In his case, it all worked out since the man was him, but in his daughter’s case, the idea made him angry.

Kolman left his small plot behind, stewing about his daughter and his friend’s son.
  He loved Segimer like a brother, but there was more to be gained from a marriage with another man’s boy.  Time, Kolman told himself, was all that he needed to right his daughter’s mind.  Off he trekked over the hill while leading his horse on foot to speak with Segimer on a different matter altogether.

“That Adalbern is a good man.  His heart is as big as he is.  He loves his people,” said Segimer as the two men walked their horses.  “His taste in women is a bit odd, though.”  Segimer chuckled to himself.

Kolman smiled, more because it was expected at such a time, but his expression turned serious.  “He is all of those things and will be a faithful ally.  But there is more to leading a nation than fighting physical battles.”

“You talk about the politics of man, no doubt,” said Segimer as he leapt up to his horse.

Kolman did likewise and, after wriggling his rear to a comfortable position, he answered.  “Absolutely.  And don’t discount what I say.”

“I won’t
, you know that.  What are you getting at?” asked Segimer.

“Men are jealous, greedy, lustful, vengeful, spiteful creatures drunk for their own power and influence,” Kolman began to preach.

“They can also be heroic, selfless, giving, loving, and generous,” retorted Segimer, holding up a palm to slow his friend’s litany down.

Kolman ignored him.  “You know and understand the politics of the tribes.  Can you even imagine the politics that must occur in Rome?  Where such power has become so centralized, the lure for cunning, thievery, and killing swells like a pus-filled boil. 
Their precious Julius was killed by his own people.  We must rise to their level if we are to ever hope to defeat the Roman legions.  I fear this war will be won with diplomacy, not outright killing.”