GUNHILD’S JOURNEY SOUTH was considerably faster than her trek north years before. It still took weeks, however. Gunderic had come in a ship with a contingent of twenty warriors, Burgundars he had rescued from their twenty-five-year-long commissions in the Roman Army, on the premise that he needed them to fight off the Alemanni who threatened the new Burgundar lands and hence Rome.
Half’s family had not tried to stop Gunhild leaving. Indeed, they appeared more than happy to see her go. So she sailed south, away from the land of the Danes and through the narrow sea between Britannia and Gaul. The sea was rough and the weather foul. They were cold, wet and miserable and spent their time either huddling for shelter from the incessant rain or throwing up over the sides. There was little time for talk, especially not whatever strategy Gunderic had in mind for regaining the treasure hoard from the Romans. Gunhild did try to broach the subject twice, but on both occasions Gunderic had glanced towards nearby warriors and touched his forefinger to his lips, making it obvious that whatever his plans were, they were not for sharing.
Sometimes they were able to put into a port where they stayed in a comfortable tavern, ate good food and drank decent wine. Other stretches of shore, Gunderic avoided. The people in Armorica, he told Gunhild, were in revolt against Rome, and without her legions to enforce law pirates now ranged the coast. The further south they sailed the better the weather became and the less the sea rolled and heaved.
Gunhild was delighted to see Gunderic’s warriors had painted their Roman shields with the emblems of their Burgundar clans. There were wolves, lightning symbols and sun wheels. Gunderic had painted an eagle on his. There were no bears.
‘Are there no Dagelungs?’ Gunhild said one day, as she and her brother ate their meagre suppers of boiled, salted fish.
Gunderic shook his head.
‘There were enough of them taken into the army after Vorbetomagus to form a cohort,’ her brother said. ‘But last I heard they went with Aetius to fight the Visigoths. It did not go well. I’ve never come across a Dagelung since.’
For a moment there was silence. Both contemplated those who were missing from their little circle of friends.
‘It seems strange for us two to be back together but not Hagan,’ Gunhild said. ‘It was always the three of us together.’
‘And Brynhild,’ her brother said. ‘Did she escape, do you think? She was a Swan Maiden like you, wasn’t she?’
Gunhild shot a reproachful glance at him. He was not meant to know such things. Then she sighed. What did it matter now?
‘I don’t think she did, no,’ she said, sudden tears stinging her eyes. ‘Sorry.’
‘Oh,’ was all her brother said, turning his eyes towards the deck.
They sailed through two terrifying storms. Lightning split the sky, the waves rose like mountains, howling wind threatened to tear the sails from the mast and rain lashed the deck. It was all the more frightening to think that to the west lay nothing but endless ocean. If they were driven off course they could be lost forever.
The storms passed though and they rounded the coast of Hispania and sailed through the Pillars of Hercules into the Great Middle Sea. From then on the journey became close to pleasant. They bought excellent food in ports and enjoyed pleasant nights on land away from the constant rolling of the ship’s deck.
Even here though, as they sailed towards the very heart of the Roman Empire, there were parts of the coast that had to be avoided. Gunderic might have been no real friend of Rome but his ship was Roman and, despite their painted shields, his and his warriors’ war gear was from the Roman Army. Gunderic had no desire to be the victim of mistaken identity by another of Rome’s foes. To the north the Visigoths had formed their own kingdom in Hispania and Southern Gaul in defiance of Rome. To the south lay Africa and another kingdom the Vandals had driven the Romans from. Everywhere, it seemed, Rome’s power was on the wane. The thought made Gunhild question the sagacity of Gunderic’s strategy.
‘Are you sure this treaty is wise, Gunderic?’ she said one evening. They sat at a table set up for them near the prow. For once, they were as alone as they could be on the ship. The others were all eating under a canopy further down the deck. They had bought amphorae of excellent Gaulish wine in the last port they had stopped at and fresh fish for a change from the salted. Gunderic poured them both a goblet of ruby red wine then sat back, a half-smile on his lips.
‘Rome is still the greatest power in the world,’ he said. ‘It’s better to be with them than against them. Though if Aetius ever finds out about what happened to the treasure then he’ll make what happened at Vorbetomagus look like a child’s birthday party.’
‘What do you mean?’ Gunhild said, frowning.
Gunderic leaned on his elbows on the table. He looked at his sister with eyes that were steady but they were set in a head that wavered a little.
‘How many goblets of wine have you had?’ Gunhild said.
‘Not enough,’ Gunderic said. ‘That’s one thing the Romans do so damned well – make wine.’
Gunhild realised that her brother was quite drunk. He had been sitting alone for some time, and must have already downed several goblets of the intoxicating drink.
Gunhild sensed that her chance to delve into the subject of her proposed marriage had finally arrived. So far on the journey Gunderic had insisted on total secrecy.
The sound of raucous singing came from the other end of the deck where the rest of the warriors were.
‘It’s good to hear the old songs,’ Gunderic said. ‘The chants of our people. They tell the tales of who we are. Where we came from. The Lore of the Burgundars. Soon we will be home, sister.’
He smiled and raised his goblet in a toast.
‘Home, Gunderic?’ Gunhild said. ‘What is home any more? We grew up in Vorbetomagus. The Rhine was where we swam as children. This journey we are on will end… where? A new land?’
‘Our home is wherever our folk are,’ Gunderic said. ‘It’s not about land. If we are with our own folk, who cares where we are?’
‘You’ve seen this new land?’ Gunhild said.
‘I have,’ Gunderic said. His eyes lit up. ‘It is beautiful. There are meadows, rich and fertile. There is barley, grapes, there are even salt mines. The mountains are high but they rise all around my kingdom. They protect it like a ring of teeth.’
‘And what of my husband-to-be?’ Gunhild said, ‘Why do you want me to marry this man I’ve never met? Can you at least tell me his name?’
Gunderic glanced around to see no one was close enough to hear. Then he took a swig of wine. He pursed his lips and met Gunhild’s gaze.
‘It’s Sigurd Volsung,’ he said.
‘You’re joking!’ Gunhild said, her eyes widening. She blew out her cheeks as she recalled the blond-haired boy, the son of one of their father’s noblemen. ‘What age is he? Ten?’
‘Perhaps last time you saw him, yes,’ Gunderic said, smirking. ‘He’s all grown up now.’
He grunted. ‘That’s an understatement, actually,’ he went on, pouring himself another goblet of wine, ‘He’s huge. A giant among men. Tall, broad-shouldered, strong as an ox. After the fall of Vorbetomagus he spent some time in hiding, working for a blacksmith, which may account for the power of his arms. He’s not too strong when it comes to wits though. He will be my champion like Hagan’s father was for our father.’
‘I remember Sigurd’s father,’ Gunhild said. ‘He was a mighty hero of our people too. Like Godegisil. But he was a nobleman, Gunderic. I am the daughter of a king.’
‘His father died with the other heroes of our folk at Vorbetomagus,’ Gunderic said. His mood became suddenly intense and he leaned across the table. ‘We must build a new warrior horde, sister. With new traditions to go with what is left of the old ones. It won’t be easy but we will do it. We have to or our folk will be lost again. In this world, those not strong enough to protect themselves are the first to fall. It happened to us before. It won’t happen again. When I am king, I won’t let it.’
He spat the words through clenched teeth, eyes blazing.
‘And I have a role to play in that?’ Gunhild said. ‘Is that why you want me to marry Sigurd?’
‘No,’ her brother said. ‘And it’s not my idea, by the way. It’s his.’
‘His?’ Gunhild said. ‘Does he even know who I am?’
‘He remembers the beautiful princess from long ago, before the Burgundar kingdom fell for the first time,’ Gunderic said. ‘And there is something else. I hesitate to tell you this, sister, as it will swell your already large head. Tales of the fall of the Burgundars at Vorbetomagus have spread all over the Empire since then. You won’t be aware of it but one has sprung up that says you are the most beautiful woman in the world: the lost princess of the Burgundars and her uncannily fair looks has become a tale told around the hearths of tribes across Gaul, Germanica and beyond. Sigurd has heard these legends.’
Gunhild could not help a little smile. Her good looks were the only treasure she possessed now and she was well aware of their value.
‘So without actually seeing me this Sigurd Volsung says he wants to marry me?’ she said. ‘Because of a legend? He must be as dull-witted as you say.’
‘It is enough that everyone else thinks you are the most beautiful woman in the world for him to want to marry you,’ Gunderic said, refilling his goblet. ‘He is… like that, I’m afraid.’
Gunhild rolled her eyes. She knew exactly the type of man Sigurd was likely to be.
‘What a charming match you have made for me, brother,’ she said. ‘I hope whatever the price was, it was worth it.’
‘Oh it is,’ Gunderic said, the smile returning to his lips. He glanced around again, as if to check if any of the others had moved closer. ‘I can assure you of that.’
‘There’s no one to hear us but the wind and the seabirds,’ Gunhild said. ‘So you can tell me everything.’
She levelled her gaze with Gunderic’s.
‘And let me assure you, brother,’ she said in a cold, hard voice. ‘Unless you tell me everything, including what I will get out of these arrangements, and I can see why you expect me to enter a match that is beneath me, there will be no marriage.’
His lip curled a little.
‘You think you have a choice in any of this?’ he said. ‘A landless woman with no wealth? What could you do to stop it?’
Gunhild reached across the table and grasped her brother’s forearm. Her long nails dug into his flesh like the talons of an eagle grabbing a rabbit.
‘There are many paths open to me,’ she said. ‘Don’t fool yourself that there isn’t. I could poison this Sigurd Volsung’s drink. I could poison yours.’
Gunderic looked down at his wine.
‘I could run away in the night,’ she went on, ‘and if you found me I could end my own life and then you would have nothing: no sister to marry off to get whatever it is you’re getting. In fact, I could do that right now. I could jump off this ship—’
‘No!’ her brother cried out. She could see the look of panic on his face and knew her words had had the desired effect. Her heart leapt. She was not completely powerless after all. Whatever her brother’s scheme was, she was key to it.
She could use this to her own advantage.
‘Then tell me everything,’ Gunhild said, with a murderous smile. ‘Why am I to marry this boy?’
Gunderic sighed and took a hefty swig of wine. He met her gaze once more. His blue eyes were steady now and showed no sign of their former intoxication. It was as if the seriousness of whatever was in his mind had chased away the fumes of the wine.
‘No,’ he said in a firm voice. ‘I cannot.’
‘I meant what I said, Gunderic,’ Gunhild said.
‘I have no doubt about that,’ Gunderic said. ‘But you will just have to trust me on this. It’s not just for my sake but for yours also. And for the sake of what few remain of our folk. If General Aetius, or any Roman for that matter, finds out why I need you to marry Sigurd Volsung, they will kill every last one of us. There will be Burgundars nailed to crosses every step along the Via Helvetica from Geneva to Ravenna. You and I will be on the first two.’
Gunhild let go of his hand. She could see he was serious.
‘When we are safe within the boundaries of our own kingdom,’ Gunderic said, ‘our new kingdom, away from prying eyes and ears of any Romans, then I shall tell you everything. I promise. Until then we must not talk of it.’
‘I see,’ Gunhild said with a curt nod. ‘Very well. It had better be good.’
‘Oh, it will be,’ her brother said, the grin returning to his face. ‘Trust me on that.’