The Snake Catcher Read online

  Both women were pregnant.

  “Safe again,” Brimwulf muttered, entirely in love with his redhead, who looked mildly unhappy with his progress.

  “Maybe you aren’t,” Rochus laughed. “Mathildis is forever asking why her husband isn’t doting on her on her during his every waking moment. She will slap your ears, and she will call you a fool.”

  Brimwulf stared at Rochus. “She asked you?”

  Rochus smiled with supreme confidence. “I’m trustworthy. And pretty. And never far.”

  Brimwulf spat at that. “As long as you don’t dote on her, I’ll be fine. I’ll live with her moods and slaps,” Brimwulf said darkly. “Just remember what happened to Hraban, when he lied about bedding her. He bears a scar in his ass.”

  “Oh, I know better than to flirt with a redhead,” Rochus chortled happily. “And you need not worry. Your next baby won’t have my handsome looks. I’ll behave, my friend.”

  We arrived, and indeed, Mathildis took Brimwulf’s ear and pulled him over to kiss her, nearly toppling him off the four-horned Roman saddle.

  Cassia raised an eyebrow at the Quadi prize, the head on top of the spear. “Rations?”

  Tudrus chuckled as he looked at Agetan and Bohscyld, and both of the rock-like creatures were crimson red of face. The mute brutes were devoted to Cassia. Agetan was scowling up at the head, and probably thinking about making a trophy of it for her.

  Cassia gave me a cursory look, and pushed me. “You in one piece? No need to worry about infections? You barely just healed.”

  I nodded. “I’m untouched. Tudrus nearly got his ass chopped off,” I told her, and ignored the snorts of the Quadi. “I have to go and see Tiberius, I guess. Rochus rode to find us and informed me.”

  Cassia looked up the trail. “Go alone. He’s up there, as usual. They nearly dropped the corpse as they climbed. Men are hurt. The road’s in a terrible condition,” she said and shrugged. “Though, perhaps for a reason. They have been conquered before, through these passes. The roads to the heart of their power are not to be easy to travel. No fast access for the enemy.”

  Brimwulf came last with Mathildis, swaying in his saddle. He, like Rochus, was well-versed in Rome, due to having served Segestes the Fat, the bastard who had betrayed his people, served Rome, and was also indicated in the plot to kill Drusus. He now ruled vast lands in the north, where Father was promised lands near River Danubius.

  Both would pay, if Tiberius had his proof.

  The archer spoke like a scholar. “It is true they have been conquered from the passes before. That’s the only way to do it. They say they have thousands of ship arranged in fleets to give them access anywhere in the coasts, where the enemy might not have such fleets. But, they have domestic issues. The Long-Haired Gaul beyond the mountains is pacified, but the Alp tribes?” He gestured at some men who stood on the hillside. They were much like the men we had just killed. They were long bearded, like the Germani, grim, shit poor, and didn’t bow to the Romans. “It might be wise to build roads, if they mean to pacify these beasts.”

  I nodded, and let them argue. I squinting and looked to the hill top, trying to catch sight of Tiberius.

  It was Tiberius and Drusus who had conquered the land. They had done so on the orders of Augustus, The brothers had achieved it by herding the tribes like goats. They were beaten from one valley into the next valley, until they found they had run from swords to spears. Few men of the Alps tribes were left alive after that war. They had set up perfect plans, Tiberius and Drusus, and used their brains, rather than mere brute force.

  Thinking about wily plans, I gazed at Gernot, my one-handed brother, riding to the side. He was gazing at us uncertainly. He had no home, like myself, but he had also been my foe until the day he spared my daughter, Lif. Now, he followed us, his hand gone, thanks to me, armored and armed like we were, but sure to have no place with the Guard.

  He would make it, I thought. He’d figure out a place for himself. As long as it wasn’t again on the opposing side, I’d help him. I nodded at him, and he gave me a ghost of a smile, his weak, brown beard whipping in wind. I turned away. I had a long way to travel, before I might truly trust him again. He had caused much trouble for all of us.

  So had Father.

  I had left him alive. Maroboodus lived, even when I had him under the blade.

  Would Tiberius understand, if he found out?

  Why had I?

  He had killed Drusus, cursed us to exile, lied to everyone, and cheated tribes’ worth of people to their pyres. He had marred me with the Head Taker. The scar on my face throbbed angrily. He had made me the Oath Breaker in the eyes of all our folk. I’d forever be a cursed man. I had bled to kill him. I had killed Leuthard, dozen of his men, Cornix, and finally, nearly Maroboodus, after Drusus fell.

  I had spared him, because I had beaten him, I decided.

  He had been at my mercy, telling me how I knew nothing of his past and choices, and now, I would. I could always find him again. Besides, I had set Catualda on his back. Maybe they would kill each other.

  “Hannibal,” the archer agreed, and I was raised from my contemplations. He went on. “Hannibal marched over these mountains. Segestes was fond of the tales of the Romans.” He had served Segestes, father of Thusnelda, who loved her cousin, Armin, but now, Segestes would rule the Cherusci, fawn on Rome, and the land would be in chaos for decades. Similar chaos ruled all along River Rhenus, and Rome would press home hard against the disorganized Germani. Rome would take many lands from my people. Drusus had started it.

  Someone else would inherit his glory.

  Tiberius could destroy Germania.

  That bothered me.

  It should not, but it did, since it was once the home of my dreams, the land where I had hoped to be the master of spears, free as the wind, a lord and a father.

  I snorted and shook my head, and adjusted Cassia’s robe, which was stuck on her saddle. Her belly was huge, and I felt sorry for her for the discomfort she was enduring. She had left her home for me. I had left mine for a new one, far from everything I knew, and had loved. I spoke Latin, but that’s all I had in common with Romans, no matter if I had been made a citizen. I left behind corpses, some enemies I’d face again one day, like Father. Now, I would serve Tiberius, and uncover the secret of this woman, Julia. Cassia shared all of it with me willingly.

  Happily, we had an advantage.

  Antius.

  I might not have to do anything. Tiberius would make Antius squeal all his little secrets. The man who had been the go-between for this mystery woman, probably Julia, and Maroboodus and Segestes, would know names. He would have stories to tell.

  He’ll speak. He’ll tell everything, I thought.

  The prisoners had gone a different route for Augusta Vindelicorum. They had been sent for Rome, without pomp and honor. There, with the prisoners, was also Armin, the only Germani who had nearly destroyed a Roman army, and the man who had lied and schemed, and finally failed himself into Roman captivity. He was my friend, and my enemy. He had fought for our freedom, but failed.

  Our?

  I was now a Roman, I reminded myself. That’s what Cassia would expect, as well. I looked at her with admiration, and she smiled at me, happy as she had ever been. She had endured Hel’s flames for me, a healer and lover, and my best friend.

  Rochus kicked my leg. “You were to meet Tiberius, remember? It’s not a request. This is not a Germani village, where men get to their lord after an hour of idle farting, sleeping and fucking. Get going. See? Up there?”

  A young tribune was waving his hand furiously just above us, and pointed a finger towards me. I was easy to recognize because of my distinctive bronze helmet. He was nodding, and so I leaned to kiss Cassia on the cheek, the helmet’s cheek guards flattening as I pecked her. I guided the horse up the elevation. I reached the man, and he spoke with impatient authority, pointing a finger towards the head of the column. “The commander wants you!” he said. “Weren�
�t you told? Flavus was commanded to fetch you!”

  I grinned down at Rochus. “No. Nobody told me. Rochus was farting and telling jokes. But, thank you for letting me know.” I could hear Rochus cursing behind my back as I rode up at a canter, the horse picking the best way to the top of the mighty hill.

  There was a small flutter of joy in my heart as I rode for the commander, but then I remembered the commander was not Drusus, but Tiberius, and I nodded to myself gravely.

  Tiberius deserved my respect.

  He walked all the way back to Rome, with his brother. If he rode at all, I wasn’t sure. I had not seen him do so. He had made the trip from Rome, up the Po Valley, past the Alps, over the rivers and through the dangerous Germani woods with but one man, braving dangers, bandits, and weather. He made the trip in a few days, so he was a hardy man. And he obviously loved his brother. He was also a great soldier.

  Probably better than Drusus had been, I decided. Tiberius was careful, calculating, sharp, and tough. That was Tiberius, a man worth respecting.

  Yet I feared him more than I respected him. There were qualities in him that left a man wondering. Weaknesses and strengths mixed freely in Tiberius. All our lives were in his hands. And he had, nearly, had us all killed when Antius appeared in the deathbed of Drusus, and blamed us for everything. I gazed at Cassia, worried. We were far from home, and while that home was uninviting and full of death, and people who hated us, in the vast areas of Roman dominion, we were helpless as newborn babies. To escape would not easy, should things go wrong. Father had left Italy, and had deserted the guard, but I wouldn’t be able to.

  Because Cassia was pregnant.

  And when she had the baby, the baby would be weak. So many babies died under the skies of Midgard. And they were tools for our enemies. Both in the games of the Romans, as well as those of the Germani, I admitted grudgingly, as I guided my horse forward. A wife and a child were assets to keep one in line.

  I rode past the plodding horses of the Batavi, then a century of legionnaires, and a centurion who was marching next to them, his vine stick unused. They were elite soldiers, no recruits, and not one of them needed encouragements in the form of bruises. Before and after Drusus’s corpse, there marched two cohorts of legionnaires, hundreds of men swaying along, draped in their lanolin oil drenched military cloaks, their furcas tapering above them as they marched on. Their gear was swinging from the pole, alongside with their pila. Some again saluted me, knowing me from the battles in the lands of the Cherusci.

  Finally, not too far up the road, I saw a standard taller than the others, golden and purple, and a group of men, some well-built, noble Romans, walking with the dead one. The lictors were easy to spot, with their broken fasces, and, behind them, walked Tiberius. He was bareheaded, his brown, simple cloak in line with his unassuming, austere nature. He was looking at the men, officials, many whom carried his brother, and I was sure there was an occasional look of puzzlement on his strong face. He was often surprised by what men did—good and evil—and it was a trait that put off people who dealt with him. He was not an easy man to read. He was genuine, plain in his manners, hated people who didn’t speak their mind. Though, if they did, and he disagreed with them, it might doom the man. He could not understand people who tried to bribe him, or who feared him.

  He was dangerous in so many ways.

  So far, I had survived him. He had believed me, elevated me, and I hoped he would do so in the future. His eyes turned to regard me as I approached, as if he had sensed my thoughts. I guided the horse as near him as I dared, and jumped down, dragging the animal behind. He gave me a wry look and nodded, as if he had guessed I would appear right at that very moment.

  I was unsure how to address him, whether to call him patron, lord, or just Tiberius. Instead, I spoke to him like I did to Tudrus and Wandal. “You called for me?”

  He pointed a finger to south. “See it, Hraban?”

  I squinted. Far in the horizon, past peaks of mountains, and rolling hills and rivers, there was a flatter bit of land, filled with greenery. Beyond the land, a stretch of blue and gray, green, and silver. The sea.

  I could only gape at it. I had never seen a body of water that massive.

  He eyed me with brief humor. “It’s always the same, when people witness the sea for the first time. Mare Nostrum, our sea, Hraban. It makes for a beautiful jewel in our palm.”

  “Is it safe?” I wondered.

  He chuckled. “No. There are storms and pirates, and ships are lost every day. But, the beauty of it more than makes up for its cruelty.”

  I agreed. It was enchanting, a gate to faraway places, and the thought of travelling its lengths was intriguing, beguiling. “Was it always your sea?”

  He shrugged. “We like to think it was. It wasn’t, of course. The Greeks, Carthaginians, ruled it in their time, and now, the pirates try. Not that long ago, Sextus Pompeius wore a blue cape, a sign of the son of Neptune, and ruled much of it under our noses from Sicily. Why do you ask?”

  “Your brother. He spoke of Rome that used to be. Republic. I wondered how that sea would have been named, if he had tried to bring back that Rome.”

  “Rome is still a Republic,” Tiberius said with a small, cold smile. “But, I know what you mean. Go on.”

  I swallowed, sure I had placed my foot in an anthill. “Roman sea? Someone else’s?” I wondered, feeling like a peasant. “Many nations might have tried to take it for themselves, if there were war in Rome again.”

  Tiberius walked on, his dark eyes taking on the vastness spreading around us. His brother’s corpse was lifted across a fallen rock, and horses shied away from the shuffle. He spoke sadly. “I know where his heart slept. In the past. No matter what, it would still be the Roman sea. Rome is more than Italy these days. Had my brother raised the north to war against the south, and grasped provinces in Africa, Hispaniola, or Greece, there would have been no uprising of nations. They would have fought as Romans against Romans. They don’t see themselves as anything more than Romans these days. There is no liberty in their dreams any longer. No, the peasants certainly do not know Latin, but the nobles and the kings think, and speak, like we do. Many live in Rome, part of the year.” He gazed at me shrewdly. “And how do you stand in this debate that got my brother killed? How do you view his dreams?”

  “I don’t know enough to dream about Republic,” I said. “Rome is one, the Senate is still there, but I know it is changing.”

  “It is,” he said softly. “It is indeed. And you have no opinion, because you don’t know the Senate. I understand. And how do you view Germania being part of Rome, one day? They will serve under one king, who will bow to us.”

  I gazed at him. “We are Germani. We hate kings. We won’t bow down to the Senate either.”

  He mouthed my answer, truly astonished. “You hate kings? And you think you won’t bow?”

  I looked down, saw some brittle frost over a puddle, and smiled wistfully. “We love our freedoms. Like our winter, they can be bitter and dividing, but still make us what we are. We won’t bow down.”

  He snorted. “Even if these so-called freedoms keep your people divided, split against each other, weak when the enemy arrives?” he asked and looked away. “Kings have their advantages. Your father seems to think this is the case.”

  “My father,” I said sourly, “can go hump his horse.”

  He laughed dryly. He reminded me of Drusus then, but he went quiet, observing the men who were whispering and obviously gossiping about Tiberius. It made him uncomfortable. He waved his hand at the deceased one. “I loved Drusus. But, he fought a fight that was unwinnable. I hate such battles. I try not to tie my life into such a knot. I lead my army, plan campaigns to the minute detail, and make sure all the overpowering, terrible enemies in politics ignore me. Our world is full of such enemies, Hraban, and you should remember it. One must bide his time, or end up like my brother. No man can save you, if you don’t know how to dream silently.”

 
; I gazed at the wrapped corpse. I had failed to save him.

  He looked sad. “I don’t blame you. You bled well for him. But, Maroboodus got away, and that we shall have to remedy. Patience is needed in the north as well. We have time.”

  “Yes, Patron,” I said.

  He nodded. “That’s why I wished to speak to you. About caution. You’ll join the Germani Custodes Corporis. You’ll guard the family, and you’ll keep our people alive. That’s your function. The Pretorian Guard shares this duty, but while they stand at the doors, you stand in the bedchamber. My mother wrote to me,” he said.

  “Oh?” I asked. Livia?

  He nodded. “She thinks you will be of a great use with Julia. I thought of keeping you close and setting you loose on my enemies, but she thinks you will have some kind of an advantage with Julia. I tried to argue that you need time to get to know Rome, but she thinks not. I shall not force you, but I think you should listen to Mother. I don’t know why she is so obsessed by you, but she is.”

  “What does she require?” I asked suspiciously. I didn’t like people being obsessed with me.

  He looked bothered. “Mother has a most overpowering personality, Raven. Be patient. Like I wanted to use you, she would use you. You will still help discover who did this to my brother. But, you will do it closer to the snake herself.”

  “Close to Julia,” I said dully, unhappy.

  He nodded. “Cautiously. You’ll do it cautiously, not like a roaring forest bull, ramming your horns into every thicket. You find out about my wife, and listen to my mother, if you agree.”

  “Yes,” I said simply, feeling inadequate for the task. “Perhaps.”

  He nodded to himself. “Perhaps?”

  “You said if I agree,” I answered.

  He snorted. “And you took it literally. You will learn. You will aid me by aiding mother. You will find the truth of Julia’s guilt, and we shall expose her, because I think there is no doubt about the guilt. And you will figure out what more they want.”