Adalwulf: The Two Swords (Tales of Germania Book 1) Read Free Page B

that was ruled from a hill, the Hard Hill, the former home of the legendary Aristovistus, the hero once defeated by the famed Roman, Caesar God. There men with no homes often found one, with the Bordermen. I spat away my remorse, and hoped to find peace ahead, but it would not come easily.
    The Marcomanni were rich, it was evident. I rode across fine, ripening fields, all swaying with rough barley, and saw many villages in the distance. Amidst woods and lakes, there were pastures full of cows, and some wheat fields. My horse whinnied and warned me of a possible danger, and I held my framea—a thin-tipped short spear ideal for melee and throwing both—steadily, turning to look around, and spotted a homestead I had missed.
    Bearded men on horses herded some small cows lazily across a stream near it. I guided my horse expertly around some boulders, keeping distance to the Marcomanni guarding their flocks of cows. I cursed myself for a fool, and stuck the spear under my thigh and balanced the shield before me as I started to twist my hair into a knot. Most Suebi wore such a thing, often braided carefully, some decorated richly, and the more elaborate the knot, the higher the man. The Marcomanni would see my hair, long and wild, and uncut at forehead. The Chatti often cut it only after killing their first man. They would know I was not a Suebi, not from their lands, but a stranger. As I was tall and blonde, with wide shoulders and piercing blue eyes, they’d remember me. If the Chatti sent men to find me, I didn’t want to seem too conspicuous.
    I managed to twist a loose knot in place, and saw some of the Marcomanni had guided their horses near a stream, staring at me. I grabbed my shield and the spear and hailed the men, who now held spears tightly. I knew I would have to be careful. The men were tense, and didn’t hail me back. Perhaps they had been raided recently. Cow theft was one of the ways to make a man rich in the lands of the Germani, and horse theft was probably as lucrative for a thief. I was no threat to the men, and they knew it. I might be a scout for the neighbors of these men, or even one for a large scale war party aiming to wreck terrible havoc in the land.
    The men finally pulled their horses away and whistled for their dogs, which I only now noticed running ahead and behind me. While my hair was now twisted with the unfamiliar Suebi knot, I’d not easily fit in. The Chatti were not Suebi. Our gods were mostly the same, though spirits, ancestors, and many of our stories were our own. Their habits and speech were subtly different. Where Chatti lived amongst the mountains, stretching to the north where the Cherusci and the Sigambri lived in the flatter lands, the Marcomanni were living near savage enemies at the edge of the Black Forest. Here, the Marcomanni, the Bordermen, ruled with an iron fist, the only Suebi nations to live here, so far in the east, the scions of great Aristovistus. They lived in the junction of the rivers Rhenus and Moenus, and across the river, the Germani Vangiones, ruled by Rome, lived amidst Roman legionnaires, Mediomactri and Treveri Gauls.
    I might not fit in, but as a stranger, I would be in a large company. Many men like me trekked there, they said, for the land of the opportunities, where war lords sought men to raid rich Gaul lands. And not only across the river, the Marcomanni warred in the Matticati hills, and raided far southern lands, where few lords ruled. The Black Forest ringed the land, the rich pastures littered it, and I stared hungrily at earthy halls, where smoke rose to the heights of the skies. My nose picked up scents of gruel, and I also made out the scent of some sort of wheat bread, lentils, and even roasted meat. Worst of all, I could smell the beguiling aroma of sweet mead. I was starving, having not eaten well since the Quadi lands, and cursed my crumbling belly.
    I stopped feeling sorry for myself, and straightened in the saddle. Even Snake-Bite’s