The Wald Read Free Page A

on to the next village and then, eventually, back home across the Rhenus.
    Gundahar quickly found a small store house filled with coarse fiber bags of dried wheat.  “Go tell some of the men to bring a horse and wagon here.  It’ll do you good to give some orders.”
    “But my father told me to follow you,” answered the boy confused at when it was appropriate to disobey orders.
    “That was for the attack, boy.  This is the plunder.  Now go.”  To make his point, Gundahar jabbed the tip of his spear into Berengar’s side, tearing his tunic and even drawing some blood.  The boy screeched and ran away to do the ugly man’s bidding, still clutching his small sword, dirtied only with mud.
    As Berengar ran between two, small closely-set homes, ahead of him he saw the pretty young woman he had briefly seen curled into the corner of the first house he entered.  She ran , crying, straight at him.  He froze, not knowing what to do.
    Then, behind her, one of his countrymen came around the corner into the alley and tackled the girl so both of them tumbled down at Berengar’s feet.  The boy stared, mouth agape.  The man proceeded to claw up her dress, leaning his weight down on her neck with one hand.  Her struggling slowed and eventually stopped as the man entered the woman.
    The young woman gazed upward, blinking occasionally, arms at her sides, while the Sugambrian rode her.  Berengar had seen his mother and father do something similar, but this was very different.  He was confused.
    The soldier looked up from his work, scowling at Berengar, “Stop gawking, boy.”  Yet, the boy gawked.
    “I said, stop your gaping!”  The warrior reached out his rock of a fist and smashed Berengar’s nose.  The boy had never had a broken nose before, but he knew he did then.  Blood spurt out through each nostril as he tipped backward onto his rear.  The brightest light he’d ever seen grew then faded in his eyes.
    When he could see clearly again he sat looking down at his chest.  Blood covered his vomit which covered his tunic.  At his side in the mud rested his small sword.  He heard the man’s thrusting and grunting.  Giving no thought to his actions, Berengar seized the weapon and stood to face his countryman.  Before the man could raise his head to look in his direction and offer another strike, Berengar used both hands to drive the blade into the back of the man’s neck.  It slid off his spine and down one side, but the damage was done and it was good enough.
    The warrior flung his head back, withdrawing from the woman while rising to his knees.  The man’s head bobbed from side to side while the gaping wound exposed much of his neck musculature on his right side.  The Sugambrian man batted his hands at his waist searching for a weapon.  Berengar ran toward his kneeling prey shouting nonsense.  He tried to jump over the woman, but instead put a small boot on her belly.  The squish y surface caused him to lose balance.  While he teetered, the angry, bleeding man grabbed him by the hair, shaking the boy violently.  Like a rat cornered in a storehouse, Berengar slashed his blade which caught his captor’s extended arm.
    The man dropped Berengar who proceeded to slash at the big man until his quarry slumped over, dead.  The boy’s heart raced, pounding so that his chest and neck hurt.  Berengar panted while his eyes and head darted around him to see if anyone had witnessed what he had just done.  The young woman was gone with no sign of her there in the muck except the imprint of her back.  He heard laughter and clanging coming from inside one of the houses.  No one had seen him kill one of his elders.
    In another heartbeat he remembered the mission on which Gundahar had sent him.  He ran to find someone to bring a horse and wagon , trying to forget what had just happened.
    After bursting out into the main, muddy street, he saw that what earlier had been the site of a battle was now a raucous