THE NEXT MORNING Gunderic, Gunhild, Sigurd and Hagan, with Wodnas, Geic, Lokke, Brenwic, Lord of the Leuhtungs, and a warband of Burgundar warriors prepared their horses for the trek to the icy realm high in the mountains ruled by Brynhild.
Zerco was left behind, something he was more than happy with. He told Hagan that several pretty slave girls in Gunderic’s hall had caught his eye, then muttered from the side of his mouth that it would be easier for him to ferret out where the treasure might be while the king and his councillors were out of the way.
Gunderic’s war gear was even more impressive than his warriors’. His mail was burnished black and his shoulders and breast were also protected by segmented strips of iron of the same colour. Like his warriors he wore a black cloak but his was trimmed with fur.
He too had a decorated helmet but his had plates of gold as well as silver, a visor that covered the top half of his face, while a veil of mail protected his mouth, chin and throat.
‘I had this made for me,’ Gunderic said when Hagan expressed his admiration for the headpiece. ‘This will be the new Kin Helm of the Burgundars. My father’s was lost at Vorbetomagus. When I wear this no one would mistake who the king of the Burgundars is.’
Sigurd also wore his distinctive armour which was made up of countless small rectangular iron plates polished to shine like mirrors. His huge sword swung in its jewelled scabbard under his left arm.
Compared to his companions, Hagan felt rather inadequate in his tired old, army war gear.
At the blaring of horns, the company mounted and set off.
‘It seems to me, Gunderic,’ Hagan said later as they trotted along the flat plain beside the huge lake towards a wall of jagged mountains, ‘that all the most important positions on your council are held by Aesir. Are there no Burgundars fit to fill those roles?’
He had found himself a little away from the rest of the company and beside the king, so judged this was an opportune time to ask.
‘I can understand why you think that, old friend,’ Gunderic said. ‘But they have the experience and knowledge we need. Such crafts were lost to our people in the massacre fifteen years ago. And they are not wholly foreigners. They are Aesir, a sub-clan of the Thingvi and cousins to us Burgundars. We all descended from the holy Mannus. Don’t worry, though. Every one of Wodnas’ folk has a Burgundar who is learning from them, ready to take over when the time comes.’
Hagan took another look at the warriors around them.
‘Well they’ve done a good job with the war horde, I have to admit,’ he said.
‘Everyone has to fight,’ Gunderic said. ‘Every boy when he becomes a man must join the horde. They are trained in warcraft by the older men and Wodnas.’
‘Not everyone is a fighter, though,’ Hagan said.
‘They are not,’ Gunderic said. ‘But an army needs all sorts of men. Men who prepare armour. Men who sharpen weapons. Men who cook. Men who tend the horses and, if there is a need, those men can still stand in a shield wall if they know what to do. This way everyone is ready for war. We are not a numerous people, but our warrior army is strong. We can call on every man of the folk if we have to. Once we have Brynhild’s cavalry we will be complete.’
‘Everyone is riding today?’ Hagan said, gesturing to the column of mounted warriors they rode alongside.
‘Oh, everyone can ride,’ Gunderic said. ‘We can ride to the battle. But we can’t fight on horseback. There has been neither the time nor the expertise to train cavalry. Now war is upon us there never will be time. That’s why Wodnas advises that we should make this alliance. Brynhild’s warriors are trained cavalry. Their cavalry can augment our warriors on foot when we strike the Huns. They can foil them when they charge at us.’
‘Do you really need to marry her, though?’ Hagan said.
‘We will still need her fighters, even after the battle,’ Gunderic said. ‘They can train a new generation of cavalry for us. And my realm will grow bigger once hers is included.’
‘Why do you think Brynhild will agree to marriage?’ Hagan said.
‘We are old friends. It makes sense for us to combine our realms,’ Gunderic said, as if that was all it would take. ‘Besides, like I said last night, I think she always had a thing for me.’
Hagan did not reply.
‘One thing I ask of you, old friend,’ Gunderic said, leaning in his saddle so he was closer to Hagan. ‘I don’t mind you calling me by my name when we’re alone. When others are around, however, let’s remember I’m the king. Alright?’
He winked and turned his horse to ride back closer to the rest of the company.
Hagan frowned. Gunderic’s words were more admonishment or order than request.
They rode on, crossing the plain as the snow-capped mountains grew ever taller. After a while they came upon another ghost fence of stakes and severed heads like the one Hagan had seen on entering the kingdom.
‘We are now leaving my realm,’ Gunderic said.
Hagan took a deep breath as he looked at the rotting heads. A shiver ran down his spine.
‘Who are they?’ he said.
‘Enemies, foreigners who enter the land without permission. Criminals, deviants and traitors,’ Gunderic said. ‘Cowards and shirkers. Those who refuse to fight.’
‘There are a lot of them…’ Hagan said, looking at the line of posts that disappeared far into the distance.
‘Wodnas and his people have taught us the importance of the rule of Law,’ Gunderic said. ‘Forsetti oversees the courts and they sit every week. Justice is swift and hard but fair and equal and the folk respect that. Unfortunately there is no shortage of law-breakers. But in death they can contribute in a way they could not in life. Their ghosts guard our realm.’
‘So you really have rejected God?’ Hagan said. ‘Aren’t you worried He will be angry?’
‘The God of the Romans was never really our god,’ Gunderic said. ‘He was imposed on us. Now we have Tiwass back. Our own god.’
‘How can you be so sure you’ve done the right thing?’ Hagan said, deciding not to point out that it was Gunderic’s own father who had ‘imposed’ Christianity on the Burgundars.
‘Tiwass himself has shown his approval,’ Gunhild said. She and Sigurd now rode alongside her brother and Hagan. ‘The fact that he has allowed his famous sword, Tyrfing, to fall into the possession of my husband, is proof of this.’
Hagan raised his eyebrows. Tyrfing was a sword of ancient legend. It was forged by dwarfs when the world was young; not those who wandered the world now like Zerco but the magical creatures of mystical skill who had forged all the great treasures of the earth. It was said that when it was drawn it shone and gleamed like the blade was on fire.
‘I thought Tyrfing only existed in lore,’ he said, glancing at the large sword slung under Sigurd’s left arm. ‘Can I see it?’
‘The sword bears a curse,’ Sigurd said. ‘Whenever it is drawn it must draw blood. So if I draw it now to show you, I’d also have to kill you with it.’
The others laughed but Sigurd looked Hagan directly in the eyes, only a half-smile on his face, and Hagan could tell his words were only half a joke. They were the first thing Hagan had heard the big man say since their meeting the night before. It was clear he was still not comfortable with Hagan’s presence. Hagan felt a further shiver at the thought that he was now the potential enemy of a giant warrior who bore the sword of a god.
They rode out of the realm along a dilapidated Roman road then turned south-west along a valley where the land was flat beside a meandering river but on either side sheer cliffs rose up like impossibly high walls.
They rode in a long column past some villages where the locals went running at the sight of a warband riding by their settlement. The landscape changed to woods and they kept riding, sticking to a long straight path through them. Hagan mused that it was perfect territory for an ambush but it seemed Gunderic had enough confidence that the size of their warband was enough to deter any would-be attackers.
All along the way they found Burgundar warriors with ravens painted on their shields already waiting for them. They reported what lay ahead and any potential dangers or obstacles that would slow the rest of the company down. Hagan began to realise these Raven Warriors played the same scouting and reconnaissance role that the exploratores and speculatores did in the Roman Army. Yet again Hagan wondered if Wodnas had served the Romans. If he had not, he certainly seemed to have learned a lot from them.
The Raven Warriors always delivered their messages directly to Wodnas, accompanied by looks of total devotion, and once again Hagan wondered who the real commander of the Burgundar army was: Gunderic, or Wodnas?
Night fell and they made camp. Hagan was impressed by the discipline of the Burgundar warriors who, like Roman legionaries, first dug defences to secure the campsite before anyone either ate or put up their leather tents. The party of warriors was small in number but unlike many hordes of what the Romans called barbarians they were well-trained and self-controlled. As the Roman Army had proved time and again when fighting outnumbered against barbarian hordes whose overwhelming culture was one of boastful individuality, it was such discipline that usually brought victory.
A strange smell like rotten eggs pervaded the air and what looked like smoke was seen drifting through the trees. This led to some anxiousness that the forest was the haunt of demons or similar otherworldly creatures but Wodnas’ Ravens reported that there were hot springs nearby. Hagan who was missing the Roman baths already, took himself off to find them and even though he was aware that he was exposing himself to potential danger, spent an enjoyable few hours wallowing in the pools of hot water that bubbled up from the ground amid the forest.
As he relaxed in the warm water, feeling the warmth of the water soaking into his bones, he lay back and looked at what could be seen of the sky through the canopy of leaves.
The sound of laughing women came to his ears. Looking up he spotted Gunhild and several other women approaching. Feeling a rush of embarrassment, Hagan pulled himself out of the pool and began rubbing himself dry with his cloak. He had no desire to be caught naked by a band of women.
‘We thought we would try out this miracle of the hot waters,’ Gunhild said when they arrived. ‘Have we disturbed you?’
‘I was just finishing up,’ Hagan said, pulling on his britches.
Gunhild caught sight of the amulet with the stylised horse and bird on it that Hagan wore. She frowned.
‘Where did you get that?’ she said. ‘I don’t remember you wearing jewellery when we were young.’
‘I took it from my mother’s corpse at Vorbetomagus,’ Hagan said, blushing. ‘It was hers.’
‘Your mother’s?’ Gunhild seemed incredulous.
Hagan felt confused and uncomfortable at Gunhild’s reaction. He pulled his jerkin on over his head, covering the offending amulet from view.
‘I should go,’ he said, hurrying off into the trees.
As he went he glanced over his shoulder. Gunhild was still watching him.