War Raven: Barbarian of Rome Chronicles Volume One (33 page)

Sharing his people’s hopes and fears, his sword-brother was a man they’d come to trust, and not just in his strength, but in his counsel and his unflinching concern for their future.

* * *

Chapter XLVI

FROM
THE
WEST

“All men by nature desire to know.”

Aristotle

With the first melt of snow Guntram noticed marked changes in the settlement. The dormant winter forges burst into life and within days there sprung up a further half dozen make-shift forging stations inside the settlement walls.

The first crisp days of spring breathed vigour into the Cherusci, and the crude bellows wheezed from dawn until well into the night, with the beat of smiths’ hammers ringing out across the forest. The forges’ white-hot bellies spewed out new axe and spear heads, long, cruel knife’ blades and other weapons for war. Damaged helmets and treasured shirts of chain mail were reshaped, repaired, and scraped hides were cut to size, before being soaked in brine and then stretched and secured over shield frames. The toughened hide was also cut and moulded into shirts of armour that would protect its bearer against all but the heaviest blows.

As the surge of activity increased, so did Guntram’s feelings of excitement and speculation regarding the specific nature of Arminius’s plans. Since Blaz had informed him that Rome’s tentacles now spread as far as the River Elbe, he pondered whether a strike was planned against one of the scattered Roman garrisons. He knew that any action against Rome would result in a swift and brutal reprisal against the tribes – Rome’s lesson in steel. In an effort to appease him, Blaz had vouched that all would be revealed when Arminius returned on the next full moon, and that he’d need to be patient until then.

Eventually, the first traders arrived. Four bearded Germans with their heavily laden pack horses arrived from the west, bringing with them a selection of practical goods that they traded for the Cherusci’ winter produce of cloth, tools of iron and sturdy rope.

Guntram noticed that there was a large amount of weapons amongst the traders’ merchandise. These included finely crafted steel spear heads, finely honed axe blades and even a handful of swords, both German and Gaulish in design. He noted with a grin how quickly the weapons were snapped up by an eager rush of warriors.

The traders also brought news of the west and of Governor Varus.

The news was grim, carrying a warning that Varus was set on an early spring campaign to push the boundary of the Empire further eastwards, with the ultimate goal of bringing all of Germania under the legions’ iron heel. More territory, taxes and revenue for Caesar’s coffers, and greater fame and advancement for Varus.

Guntram knew a little about Varus; information gleaned from the mutterings of strangers encountered on his journey north, as well as the bitter grumblings of his Cherusci’ brothers. Varus’s reputation was one of aloofness and intolerance, with his vanity only being out-done by his resolve to tax his people to the bone.

With Varus would come three veteran legions, plus the usual auxiliaries. Over twenty thousand men, it was a formidable force. When hearing this, Guntram wondered if Arminius’s plans would change as a result?

Tiwaz! I wish I knew the man’s mind
, he steamed, thankful the full moon was just two days away.

*

Guntram sparred firstly with Blaz, and after with two young warriors keen to test his skills. They chose the German war-hammer, a weapon with which Guntram was developing an affinity. It felt good in his hands and he admired its ability to deliver bone crushing injuries to an armoured opponent. Long handled, its heavy iron head tapered on one side into a long wicked spike that was capable of punching through armour and bone. It was no wonder that Thunor, his people’s God of Thunder made the weapon his own.

He quickly exhausted all three opponents, with each collecting a handful of painful lumps and bruises that would have them wincing for days.

Bathed in sweat following his exertions, Guntram made his way towards a stream that skirted the eastern flank of the settlement. He found a secluded spot, stripped and then waded in up to his waist. The day was bright and he languished in the tingling sensation of the icy water on his skin as he rubbed away the tacky grime.

Only brief minutes had passed when the quiet tread of feet caused him to splash to the bank. Clothes ignored, he snatched up his war-hammer, ready to confront the intruder.

“I see that your ears haven’t lost their keenness.” Wilda’s tall, shapely figure stepped from the fence of trees. She stood grinning, hands on hips.

“Girl, one day you’ll lose your head creeping around like that,” he rebuked, despite his obvious relief. “Can’t a man get any privacy? And what are you staring at? You’ve seen a man’s flesh before.”

Undeterred, Wilda closed the space between them, stopping a mere hand’s breadth away.

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. Her lips parted, the desire undisguised. She slowly ran her fingers through the damp, curling hair on his chest and a shiver tracked the length of his spine.

Her voice was thick with feeling when she spoke. “I’m no girl, and there’s not a man to equal you in all this land. You must know how I feel, and I believe you feel something for me too. I’ve seen your eyes on me, when no one is watching.” Her breathing heavy, she pledged, “There’s no other man for me...I swear it.”

Her hand slipped to his buttocks, pulling him close until their bodies touched. He felt his manhood grow hard against her. She moved her other hand up to the back of his head, and drawing herself tightly to him, coaxed his face down to hers.

“Take me here! Where no eyes can see!” Her words poured out in breathless gasps. “It’s what we both want. I’ve felt it in my heart since you first came to us.”

He felt his hands grip her hips, his throat tighten. Suddenly, he flinched back, Chayna’s face flashing before him. He removed Wilda’s hands, holding her at arm’s length.

“Wilda, you are a rare beauty, but you are mistaken if you believe I want this.” He spoke firmly, but couldn’t meet her gaze for more than a moment. He saw her recoil, as if struck with a fist, the hurt clear in her eyes.

She followed him as he went to pick up his clothes.

“Is there no room for love in you?” Her words sounded cold, hollow. “Or just death and vengeance?”

“No,” Guntram said, “there is no room...for us.” He stooped to fasten the ties of his boots.

Wilda spat out her response, “Is it because you love the woman Jenell?”

“She’s not the reason.” He didn’t look up as he spoke. “I cared for her once, greatly. And I have loved since, before the scum of Rome ripped love’s comfort from me. Now, my heart will always be a lonely hunter.”

“Very well! Live in your lodge of ice!” Wilda’s voice began to break. “But, I warn you! No other woman shall feel your embrace while I live. And if you turn to another, I’ll have her eyes out as surely as the sun rises each dawn. You’d do well to heed my words, and remember them.”

When he lifted his head, all that remained was the gentle swaying of a branch to mark her passing.

* * *

Chapter XLVII

THE
GATHERING
STORM

“Beware lest in your anxiety

to avoid war you obtain a master.”

Demosthenes

The light was poor and the air strong with the stink of rotting scraps of food strewn on the straw-covered floor. Arminius wrinkled his nose in distaste.

A mound of furs lay in one corner of the long-house where the chief of all the Cherusci squatted. Once a fine specimen of German manhood, Segestes, his uncle, was now in middle age. His body was characterised by a massive belly that slumped over his belt like an over-filled wine sack, and a bloated, beer-flushed countenance.

Segestes looked up at him, his face partly cloaked by shadows. The hatred was not clearly visible, but he felt it pulsing out from the old chief towards him.

“Say what you must, but make it brief because I’m leaving soon,” Arminius stated calmly.

“We are of the same blood,” Segestes began, his voice low. “But when I look at you I see nothing of your father, or myself.”

“I am not my father, and not
you
.” The last word was spoken harshly.

“How confident you are nephew,” Segestes sneered. “You stand there in your young body and speak down to me in your arrogant voice. Is it because I’m old that you resist everything I believe in? My body may be old but remember that my mind is still clear. Understand that I see all that you plan.”

“You think that you see Segestes, but you know only what your spies tell you.”

Segestes bustled awkwardly to his feet. Standing squarely in front of Arminius, he blurted angrily, “I know that you will bring only death and suffering to my people!” Spittle flecked his lips, drops of it spotting Arminius’s face.

Arminius slowly wiped his face with the back of his hand.

He chose his words carefully. “You know nothing of what your people want. When did you last drag your face from your mead cup to ask them? You are concerned only with the serving girls in your bed and the grog that fills your belly. Like a pig at the trough, you only care about what you need.”

Segestes drew back his fist, ready to strike. “How dare you speak to me like this! I am your chief!”

Stepping back, Arminius raised a hand between them. “Don’t!” he snapped, the fire in his eyes saying the rest.

Breathless, Segestes dropped his arm.

“Look at your people Segestes, and not through Roman eyes but your own.” Arminius’s tone was like iron.

“There is peace, and my people don’t hide in the forest like beasts.” Segestes’ voice had lost some of the anger and he began to turn away.

“Yes, they are almost tame now, and led on a Roman leash.” Arminius told him. “You should remember uncle, that it was you who sent me to Rome. And, I was impressed. But it wore off, and I saw the truth, just as I see how Rome is bleeding our people dry.” He paused before asking, “Have you really lost all the truth there is in freedom?”

Segestes slumped down onto his furs.

Outside, Arminius could hear children shouting and further off dogs barking.
Why did I come,
he chided himself.
He chooses blindness because it is easier not to see, and nothing I can say will move him
.

“You speak and dream like a fool,” Segestes said, sounding very tired.

Arminius drew back his shoulders, and then turned to leave.

“I could go to Varus . . . ” Segestes spoke quietly.

“Then go,” Arminius said evenly.

Segestes dropped his head. “When you return...what else will you steal from me?”

“When I return, nothing will be the same.”

*

Blaz stood at the back of the gathering, with Guntram, Bertha and a very excited Wilda. The crowd was still as they waited for Arminius to address them from the back of his crow-black stallion.

“Cherusci! Our time has come!” his voice rang out clearly in the brisk evening air.

Like the roll of thunder the crowd responded as one.

Raising his hand for silence he continued, “It is time wrench the boot of Rome from our necks. Throughout our lands Rome is spreading like a choking weed, strangling our way of life, and our freedom!”

The crowd roared its agreement.

“I promise you tonight that no longer will their servants tax our labours to fill the fat bellies of their masters in Rome. No longer will our young men wage their wars and fight like beasts in their houses of death. No longer will our young women be raped by their soldiers without trial or punishment. No longer I tell you. This all ends now!”

A deafening clamour erupted around Blaz, and he glanced at Guntram. He looked like a man in a dream.

Both arms raised, Arminius’s voice rang out. “I bring news that Varus’s army has left its winter base at Vetera and crossed the Rhinus.”

Furious shouts and insults rang out.

“Listen brothers, listen!” Arminius went on. “Tomorrow you will leave to join other Cherusci war-bands, and those of our brothers the Marsi, the Chatti and Bructeri. We will assemble three days hence at the Teutoberg Forest, in a host as never before seen in these lands. Like the grass of the field, our army will number over eighteen thousand strong. But, we will need all of our strength to crush Varus’s legions. We have planned well and have been patient, but the time of the spear has come and there can be no turning back. There can be only victory or death!”

A great roar went up.

“Warriors of the Cherusci!” Arminius raised his arms and the noise level subsided. “As well as your spears, bring all the food you can carry, and tools to dig the ground – because we have a great task ahead of us before the battle begins.” He paused to catch his breath.

The crowd pushed closer, with cries of “Arminius!” and “Victory or death!” Many just opened their mouths to scream their feelings without words.

He gestured for silence again. “And remember, that even though I leave you now. Look for me when the battle commences and I will be there, fighting at your side.” Taking a deep breath he bellowed over the heads of the assembled,
“
Victory or death!”

With the chanting resounding all around him, Blaz moved close to Guntram. There was no mistaking the look of surprise on his friend’s face. Despite Guntram’s suspicions during the frustrating months of inactivity, the scale of Arminius’s plan had clearly stunned him.

Blaz gripped Guntram’s arm firmly. “Well brother, our time has come at last. The sound of the battle will draw the attention of the gods themselves. How do you now feel?”

“It’s the time I’ve waited for,” Guntram replied, smiling, before directing his words to the jubilant Wilda. “And, it’s good to know that we’ll be leaving the village’s defence in such good hands. All your work with the sword may yet be put to good use, Wilda.”