THE KNOCKING WAS loud. It resounded above the subdued conversation of the hall, killing off what little conviviality there still was. When it stopped a total hush descended.
The few Burgundars who remained in the hall all exchanged glances, some curious, some fearful. It was late in the night and whoever was calling would have walked past the pile of Roman corpses outside. If it was a stranger, there would be no hiding what the Burgundars had just done.
Men set down their food and grasped their weapons again. Gunderic, already holding the spear, stood up. Sigurd alone seemed unperturbed. He lounged back in his seat and poured himself another goblet of wine.
Gunderic nodded to those nearest the doors. They hauled them open with a great creaking of hinges. For a moment it looked like there was only darkness outside, then a man walked out of it and entered the hall. He was tall and dressed in an old mottled cloak that may once have been dark blue. Years of weather had faded it to grey. On his head was a wide-brimmed hat. It was partly slouched to one side.
He was not a young man; his very long hair and beard, combed very smooth and very straight, were both as grey as unpolished chainmail. Despite his age he stood firmly upright. There was no sign of the bowed shoulders or ale-filled paunch that came to most men in the later part of their middle years.
In one hand he carried a spear but he used it like a long walking staff. It was most probably this that he had used to rap so loudly on the door. Over his shoulder was slung a leather satchel that bulged, showing there was something round inside it. His breeches were tightly cross-gartered around his legs with leather straps and to everyone’s surprise, he was barefoot.
As he got closer Gunhild saw that beneath where the man’s hat slouched to the right, his eye was covered by a patch of black material. His left eye, even in the gloom of the hall, was such a dazzling blue it almost seemed to glitter.
Beside the stranger was a young woman. She was perhaps eighteen, blonde-haired and of a beauty that rivalled even Gunhild’s. She wore a tight-fitting blue dress that made most of the men in the room stare. A large black cat sat on her shoulder.
The pair advanced up the hall between the fire pits. All eyes in the room watched them. When they got to the middle they stopped.
‘I am looking for the ruler of this new kingdom of the Burgundars,’ the one-eyed man said. He spoke in the Burgundar tongue, but with an accent that suggested he was perhaps of another Germanic tribe from somewhere to the east.
‘That is I,’ Gunderic said. ‘I am Gunderic, son of Gundahar. Who are you, stranger? And why have you come here to my hall?’
The stranger raised his staff in one hand.
‘Hail, Gunderic, new king of the once-mighty Burgundars,’ he said. There was a slight smile on his lips. ‘I knew your father. You look like him. Not as tall, though. Many call me Gest.’
‘Guest?’ Gunderic said. ‘If that is so, you are an uninvited one.’
‘But no less welcome for it, I would hope,’ the stranger said. ‘It is not the only name I am known by. This is the Lady Freya. She is daughter to my chief councillor, Forsetti, who waits outside with the rest of my folk. We have come far and we are weary. I beg you for your generosity and some of the famed hospitality of the Burgundars. We have travelled through the snow-covered mountains. We need the warmth of your fire to dry out and bring heat into our chilled bones. We need water to drink and, perhaps, a little refreshment?’
‘We are not the Burgundars of the past,’ Gunderic said. ‘We have suffered much and lost a great deal since my father’s day. Forgive me if we seem a little inhospitable, but it has been a momentous evening for us.’
‘So I see,’ Gest said. ‘There is a pile of dead Romans stacked in the street outside. The sight gladdens my heart. The only sight that would make me happier would be a pile of dead Huns beside them.’
Murmurs of assent and relief, ran around the Burgundars in the hall.
‘You speak of things close to our own hearts, stranger,’ Gunderic said. ‘But how do we know you are not some Roman spy, or scout from the Alemanni, sent here to try to judge the strength of the new rulers of this land?’
‘You don’t,’ the man said. He looked around the room with his haunting eye, a supercilious smile on his lips. ‘But I don’t need to spy to tell you are weak. Your warriors look like they got their war gear from robbing graves. They are mere beardless boys and there are barely enough of them to defend this hall, never mind your whole realm, should the Alemanni decide to invade. As for you, Gunderic, you are a king in threadbare britches and a patched old Roman Army cloak. You have not the wealth to build a kingdom. Look at the state of your hall! It is barely standing. It even has a tree growing through it.’
The watching folk in the hall gasped. Several of the warriors started to their feet, hands falling to the hilts of their sheathed weapons.
‘Watch your tongue, dog,’ Gunderic said through gritted teeth. ‘You are talking to a king. You would do well to remember that or I will have you tortured in the very fires you ask to warm yourself by.’
‘And you do likewise,’ the stranger replied in a thunderous tone that took everyone by surprise. ‘I too am of royal blood. I was the High One of the kingdom east of the river Tanais. Gest is not the only name I have been known by. I am also called Wodnas. I am known as the Traveller, the Warrior and the Helmet-wearer. I am the Third, the Hel-Blinder. Battle-Glad I am called. Death-Worker, Hider, One-Eye, Fire-Eye, Lore-Master, Masked One, the Deceitful. I am the Fury that flows in the blood of warriors and I have come here to your kingdom, to the new hall of the Burgundars, with knowledge you would do well to listen to.’
The hush descended once more on the people inside the hall. This time it was one of reverence. The girl beside the one-eyed stranger smiled. The cat on her left shoulder stood up, arched its back, and curled past the back of her head to perch on her other shoulder.
Gunhild swallowed a mouthful of wine. She had heard legends of this man while among the Danes. He was a great and powerful king who ruled over a rich, fertile land to the east, just before the great mountain range beyond which no one lived. It was said he was very learned in the arts of war and so wise in the secret crafts some thought him a wizard. He was very rich and could make men follow him into battle without fear. He was so wise some thought he could tell the future.
‘Your reputation is well known, King Wodnas,’ Gunhild said. She knew this was the name he was most widely known by. ‘But I always thought you were just a legend.’
‘A legend?’ The old man chuckled, casting his one-eyed gaze in her direction. ‘At my age it is a little worrying to be referred to as a myth. Some old lore that folk whisper around the fire on a winter’s night. But I see the legends of your beauty are true, lady. You must be Gunhild.’
‘You spoke of important knowledge, Wodnas, Gest, or whatever it is you call yourself,’ Gunderic said. ‘What is that?’
‘You think the Romans have placed you here to stave off the Alemanni,’ Wodnas said. ‘But they are not the ones you should fear. The Huns are gathering like a storm in the East. They have made an alliance with the Alemanni and other eastern tribes. Bleda still restrains them but sooner or later Attila will throw off the yoke of his older brother and he will come rushing over the Western Empire in a tide dimmed with blood.’
‘We care nothing about what happens to Rome,’ Gunderic said.
‘To do that they will have to come through here,’ Wodnas said. ‘And through you.’
Gunhild bit her lower lip.
‘The Romans told us that,’ Gunderic said. ‘Besides, what is that to you?’
‘The Huns overran my kingdom,’ Wodnas said. ‘For many years we kept them at bay. We fought them hard. We fought them well. We killed a great many of them, but they are like the waves of the mighty ocean that surrounds the world. No matter how many we killed still more came. They fear the wrath of their king if they fail more than they fear death. Their numbers are overwhelming. We are not a multitudinous folk like them. We are smaller in number even than the Burgundars. We could not stand against the Hun hordes. We could have stayed and fought to the last man, but what good would that have done? We would all be dead and the Huns would still have taken our land.’
‘You would have died with honour,’ Sigurd said. ‘Your legend would live forever.’
Wodnas turned his one eye on the big man.
‘A lame man can ride,’ he said. ‘A handless man can still drive cattle. The deaf can still fight. And win. What use is a corpse to anyone?’
Sigurd made a face.
‘The remnants of our folk gathered what we could carry and we left our homeland,’ Wodnas said. ‘We became landless wanderers. We are now scattered to the four winds. My son led some of the Aesir west. My daughter, Gerth, took others north. I wandered north, south and west.’
‘We Burgundars know what that is like,’ Gunderic said.
‘Aye, you do,’ Wodnas said. ‘Which is why we have come here. We travelled through many lands. I was with the Gepids and with Wends and with Gevlegs. With the Angles I was, and with Suebi and with Aenenes. With the Saxons I was, and with Sycgs. With the Hrons I was and with Danes, Thuringians, Gloms and Rugians.’
‘He speaks in such a strange way,’ Gunhild said in a quiet voice to her new husband. ‘It’s like he’s speaking poetry.’
‘It sounds like nonsense to me,’ Sigurd said with a grunt.
‘When I heard the Burgundars had a new land,’ Wodnas continued, ‘I thought: here is a people we have much in common with. The Burgundars and my people, the Aesir, both have reason to hate the Huns. So we have come here across the mountains to offer you an alliance.’
‘It seems this alliance would be a little one-sided, King Wodnas,’ Gunderic said. ‘You will get to share our land, but what would we get in return?’
‘I did not see this land overflowing with Burgundar farms and homesteads,’ Wodnas said. ‘That lack of numbers tells a tale all by itself. You will not have the numbers to resist an invasion unless you learn different laws of war. How to harass the enemy and disappear into the forest. How to eat away at his strength and his resolve until he leaves or is weak enough to fight in pitched battle. I can teach your warriors the secrets of war. We resisted the Huns for more than fifteen winters. You cannot do that with a band of beardless boys like you have now. I will make your warband hardened, trained killers, just like I did for Brynhild and her people. You saw how effective they were tonight. With my guidance you will kill the Alemanni with ease. And when the Huns finally come, you will be ready for them.’
‘If the Huns do come,’ Sigurd said, ‘how do we know you won’t just run away again like you did from your own homeland?’
‘There is nowhere left to go,’ Wodnas said with a shrug. ‘South is Rome. West are the Visigoths. North, more Huns now. This land is surrounded by mountains that are like Earth’s own walls, too high and snow-capped for Hun horses to cross with ease. Here we have a chance of fighting them off. If we prepare well. I want revenge! The world will not be at peace until the Huns are beaten, destroyed and no longer able to wage their wars.’
For a few moments there was silence, then the old man spoke again.
‘And there is another reason for us to form an alliance,’ he said. ‘Kinship. Our forefathers on both sides were Goths. The Goths, like the Vandals, the Geats and the Burgundars, are all descendants of Ingvy, son of Mannus, son of Tiwass, the Great God.’
Gunderic sat for a moment, looking into his cup of wine.
‘What do you think?’ Gunhild asked him in a whisper.
‘He’s right,’ Gunderic said quietly. ‘We could do well from this alliance. But what if he is trying to steal our treasure?’
Gunhild frowned.
‘How would he even know about it?’ she said in a hiss. ‘I didn’t know the truth until tonight. You must know of this man. He was the greatest war leader in the east. For him to teach us his crafts would make us strong. We are lucky to have this opportunity. I think this makes sense.’
Gunderic nodded.
‘We are Christians, Wodnas,’ he said in a loud voice. ‘And you are not. But aside from that I believe we can come to an agreement. I accept your proposal.’
‘You will not regret this decision, King Gunderic,’ Wodnas said.
‘Brynhild told us you stayed with her,’ Gunhild said. ‘Where is her home now? We were close friends once. Please tell me how I can find her again.’
‘She is indeed a remarkable woman,’ Wodnas said. ‘Though what she went through at Vorbetomagus has left her with wounds that still torment her. Not in the body, but here.’
He tapped his fist against his heart.
‘Hatred and anger are what stirs her now. When we first wandered into the mountains and unwittingly crossed into her small realm,’ he said with a chuckle, ‘we were lucky to keep our heads on our shoulders. They do not welcome strangers. Brynhild knew her former folk had settled here but she said you were part of her past now. The darkness around her heart made her say that. We stayed with her for some time. I taught her horsewomen cavalry tactics. They are now truly fearsome. When the time came for us to move on, however, Brynhild could not resist coming along to see the new homeland of her folk. She will be a useful ally to you someday.’
‘I hope so,’ Gunhild said. ‘This has been a momentous night. A few weeks ago I thought I was the last of our folk. Now I am surrounded by other Burgundars in a new realm of our own. I am reunited with you, Gunderic, and tonight we both met Brynhild. If Hagan were here too it would be just like the days long past…’
‘Indeed,’ Gunderic said. ‘I sometimes wonder what his fate was. But he was part of our past. Now we have much work to do. Let us get started. We have a nation to build.’