‘I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT Attila would have lived somewhere grander,’ Hagan said. ‘In a big city perhaps.’
‘Attila has many houses, many palaces, all over his realms,’ Zerco said. ‘This is just his favourite. His favourite son was born here and he believes it’s a lucky place for him.’
They arrived at the gates of the village, which was surrounded by a circular rampart topped by a palisade of sharpened stakes. There were many Hun war horses in a pen outside and the gates were guarded.
‘What do we do?’ Hagan said from the corner of his mouth as they approached the five surly looking Huns in mail and helmets who barred the way into the settlement. At the sight of the three obvious foreigners approaching, the guards stiffened and grasped their spears.
‘Tell them the truth,’ Wodnas said. ‘We’re here for the wedding.’
They dismounted, then Wodnas spoke to the guards in their own tongue. They looked sceptical but one of them hurried off into the town while the others told Wodnas he would have to wait. After some time of standing, awkwardly regarding each other, the fifth Hun returned, this time accompanied by another man. Hagan recognised Ediko, the Hun emissary who had delivered Attila’s message that night in Geneva years before. Then he was dressed in practical, simple riding clothes. Now he wore much grander attire, including a white silk tunic and dark blue felt britches.
‘Zerco!’ Ediko said, breaking into a broad smile at the sight of the little man. He spoke in the Roman tongue for the sake of the foreigners. ‘I’m glad you finally accepted the invitation to return. We shall have fine entertainment after the wedding feast now!’
Hagan noted the fixed smile on Zerco’s face and imagined how he must feel, having escaped after years spent in forced humiliation, clowning for the amusement of drunken barbarians, only to now be faced with returning to that same torture.
Ediko spoke to the guards who nodded then pulled open the gate, allowing Hagan, Wodnas and Zerco to enter the settlement.
‘This is excellent,’ Ediko said as he led the way through the streets. ‘The nobles had gathered here to witness the king’s latest marriage, but no one is keen to stay together too long, not with the plague abroad. Now you are here the wedding can be held.’
The streets of the settlement were simple beaten earth tracks, mere pathways between the buildings, which were mostly wood and straw and almost all circular with conical roofs.
‘The Huns spent centuries roaming the plains of the world from the east to here,’ Zerco said. ‘All that time they lived in tents. Now they are settling down they build their houses in the shape of their tents.’
There may not have been an army outside, but the interior of the settlement was packed with warriors. They lounged outside what looked like taverns, guarded the doors of large houses or strutted around in their mail and helmets. Hagan noticed they were all Huns. When it came to guarding the king and his closest noblemen, foreigners and allied warriors like the Gepids and Ostrogoths could only be trusted so far, it seemed.
Hagan began to get nervous. If something went wrong or they were discovered, they were outnumbered perhaps a hundred or more to one. They would not stand a chance.
In the centre of the settlement was a building that was larger than all the others. It too was circular and the exterior was clad in polished wooden boards that shone in the sunlight. It was taller than the other houses, having some sort of second storey to it, and the whole thing was surrounded by another wooden fence, an enclosure within an enclosure, that had four towers for guards to watch from at intervals along it.
From its grandeur compared to its surroundings, and because they were heading straight for it, Hagan concluded this was Attila’s palace.
At the sight of Ediko the warriors guarding the gate to the fence at Attila’s palace stood up straight and let them all enter.
Now inside the enclosure, Hagan spotted another building beside the main one that looked as out of place as a fish on the main street. It was built of white stones, its entrance was lined with carved Roman columns that held up a triangular marble portico. From its shape and what was clearly a furnace room built alongside it, Hagan recognised what it was, but could scarcely believe his eyes.
‘Is that a bathhouse?’ Hagan said.
‘Yes,’ Ediko said. ‘Onegesius, who was king of the Scythians here, had it built many years ago. He was a great admirer of all things Roman. He even brought an architect from Dacia to oversee the construction and transported the stones for it from Pannonia.’
‘Can we use it?’ Hagan said, looking with longing at the entrance and imagining sinking his tired, aching body into the hot water inside.
‘We have no use for Roman comforts,’ Ediko said. ‘No one knows how it is supposed to work any more. The king has found a new use for it though.’
He gave a little chuckle but did not say anything else.
‘You are the last to arrive,’ Ediko said as they walked towards a line of wooden steps that rose up to two huge, carved wooden doors that formed the entrance to the house. ‘King Gunderic got here three days ago. He has been staying in the palace with his sister and the king. They are most eager to see you.’
Hagan saw a group of men standing not far away and recognised some familiar faces. They were Burgundar warriors: about twenty of the Berh Herjass, clad in their bear cloaks, and five of Wodnas’ Raven Warriors, including Gunfjaun.
‘Alright, lads?’ Hagan said, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face.
The Burgundars turned and jogged over. They nodded their respect to Wodnas and all of them were genuinely pleased to see Hagan. They clapped him on the back, the Bear Warriors asking what he had been up to since the battle on the Catalaunian plains. Some gripped his arm and all said how good it was to see him again.
Hagan felt totally overwhelmed by emotion. His habitual loneliness dissolved in the warmth of the camaraderie the warriors displayed for him.
‘What are you doing here?’ Hagan said.
‘We came with King Gunderic from Geneva,’ one of the Burgundars said. ‘We’re here as part of his bodyguard.’
‘If you please,’ Ediko said, trying to usher Hagan and Wodnas away from the Burgundars. ‘The king is expecting you.’
‘You’re having dinner with the nobles?’ Gunfjaun said, smiling. ‘It’s well for some. We’ll be having bread, meal and that awful barley beer in the warriors’ quarters. Enjoy yourselves.’
‘We shall catch up later,’ Hagan said. ‘Over a decent drink.’
Ediko led them to the steps. Just as they reached the bottom the great doors at the top swung open. Three figures emerged from the gloom beyond to stand at the top of the stairway. Hagan saw that it was Gunderic, Gunhild and, holding her hand, Attila, King of the Huns.
Gunhild’s smile was warm and she waved her free hand. Hagan was stuck however by the contrast with the time she had greeted him in Geneva. Now there was no rushing down the hall and embracing. She looked as beautiful as ever, and the manic rage that had twisted her face the last time he saw her was gone.
Her brother however looked very different. He had lost a lot of weight and his tunic hung loose around his large frame. His skin was pale, as if he had not seen sunlight in a long time and there were dark rings under his eyes. He was trying to smile but it looked more like a sneer.
Both siblings wore their black cloaks with the eagle on the shoulder.
Attila was simply dressed in white linen. He stood at the top of the stairs, feet shoulder-width apart, his free hand on his hip. Under his left arm in a scabbard sheathed in red silk swung the Sword of the War God. He looked down at Hagan, Wodnas and Zerco and grinned.
It was the look of a wolf who spotted newborn lambs in a field.
He spoke some harsh-sounding words in his own tongue.
‘The Mighty King bids you welcome to his palace,’ Ediko translated for the Burgundars. ‘While he is not pleased to see Master Zerco again, in fact the very sight of him disgusts the Great King, he understands that the little man will bring great pleasure to the king’s loyal followers.’
Attila spoke again, this time his words were directed at Wodnas. He patted the hilt of the big sword at his side as he spoke.
‘The Mighty King welcomes you at last to his home, King Wodnas,’ Ediko said. ‘He says you have long been rivals but he knew there would be a day when you came to his door. I am sure you recognise this weapon?’
Wodnas nodded.
‘It was once yours, but now the War God has decided Attila is more worthy to bear it.’
Hagan felt uneasy. Attila’s words were far from welcoming.
‘Hagan! Wodnas!’ Gunhild said. ‘It’s so good to see you once again. Hagan, I am sorry we parted with such harsh words. I was stricken by grief. Maybe you can understand?’
‘It was a bad day for us all,’ Hagan said. ‘I hear you are to be married. Congratulations.’
‘Yes,’ Gunhild said. ‘Now you are finally here we can hold the ceremony. The king and I will be married in the morning.’
‘Hello, Hagan,’ Gunderic said. His voice was cold and friendly as a tomb. There were no apologies from him. No attempt at any reconciliation.
‘Come,’ Ediko said, spreading his right hand up the steps. ‘You are just in time for dinner.’
‘Should we not get dressed?’ Wodnas said. ‘We have not unpacked.’
Hagan could see concern on the old man’s face and wondered what was going on.
‘There is no need,’ Ediko said. ‘Half the Hun nobility who are here rode in this afternoon. They see no need for these Roman virtues. We are a simple folk. Let us eat and you can unpack later.’
He ushered Wodnas, Hagan and Zerco up the steps while some servants led their horses and pack ponies away to the stables.
At the top of the steps they found themselves at the end of an entrance hall. Attila, Gunhild and Gunderic had proceeded into the palace ahead. Hagan wondered if this was the time when he would get to talk to them before the wedding. There was much to discuss, not least whatever Gunhild had to tell him about his father.
Several Hun warriors surrounded Hagan and Wodnas and searched them thoroughly, going through every inch of their clothing and taking away knives, the spear Wodnas used as a walking staff and any other sharp objects that might be used as a weapon.
Hagan’s stomach lurched a little as he wondered if they would find the bottle of Freya’s poison on Wodnas and ask what it was, or worse, ask them to taste it to see whether or not it was harmful. To his relief they did not find it.
The cup-bearers came forward and gave each of them a cup of wine.
‘This is a Hun custom,’ Zerco said. ‘You are supposed to pray and take a drink before you sit down to eat.’
They took a sip. To Hagan’s relief it was decent wine instead of the dreadful barley drink they had been forced to drink for the last week.
Ediko then led them into the main banqueting hall of the palace. It was long and narrow like Gunderic’s feasting hall, except instead of a high seat at the far end there were two couches of the sort the Roman’s reclined on when they ate. Attila lounged on one and Gunhild on the other.
The room was lit by burning torches. Unlike any other hall Hagan had been in there was a staircase behind Attila’s couch that led up to what looked like a bedroom.
‘If he drinks too much he doesn’t have too far to go to bed,’ Hagan said.
There were seats lining each wall, facing each other across a fire pit that ran up the centre of the floor. The seats on the wall to the right of Attila were all taken already by Hun noblemen.
‘The seats to the right are for the most honoured guests,’ Zerco explained, as Ediko ushered them to seats on the left of the king.
‘Zerco will come with me,’ he said. ‘It’s time to prepare for the entertainments.’
Zerco sighed. ‘It is almost time for the show, I suppose,’ he said over his shoulder as Ediko marched him off. They both left the hall by a side door.
Seated on Attila’s left, Hagan and Wodnas found some men who looked like Gepid and Ostrogoth nobles, and Gunderic, who looked up at them. He nodded his head to Wodnas.
‘How is life in the Roman Army, Hagan?’ he said. It seemed a pointed question.
‘I can’t complain,’ Hagan said.
They took their seats.
‘It was good you hid Freya’s bottle,’ Hagan said out of the corner of his mouth to Wodnas. ‘How did you keep it from them?’
‘It’s still in the saddlebag,’ Wodnas said. ‘That’s why I was so keen to unpack before we came in here.’
Hagan rolled his eyes.
A cup-bearer came and handed Attila a wooden cup of wine. He took it, and saluted the Hun noble first on his right. The Hun stood up and bowed his head. He remained standing while Attila drank the wine then returned the cup to the bearer. The servant refilled the cup and gave it to the most honoured guest, who toasted Attila then drank. One by one everyone in the room toasted the king then sat down again.
After this, tables were brought in and set up before Attila and all the guests. Servants came in bearing dishes laden with meat, river fish and bread, which they laid on the tables.
Everyone ate though there was a tense atmosphere in the room as former enemies eyed each other across the room. More food and more wine helped to relax everyone a little, however, and soon even Hagan was starting to feel a little easier.
After all the food there were entertainments.
First, two Scythians came forward in front of Attila and sang songs that Wodnas explained celebrated the king’s victories and deeds of valour. Four musicians accompanied them on flute, lyre, cithara and drum. It was clear that the songs were good as the Huns listened, rapt, to every word. Hagan even spotted one of them wiping a tear away.
When they finished, two warriors brought in a Scythian. He was dressed in rags, his hair was filthy and he appeared to only have one tooth in his head. Hagan could see the man was clearly mad. The warriors shoved the Scythian into the centre of the floor where he stumbled around, wild-eyed and uttering outlandish, senseless words.
The Hun nobles found this very humorous and laughed. Hagan could not understand what they found so funny. The man was some unfortunate who deserved pity, not derision.
As the nobles began to grow tired of the madman’s antics, the warriors dragged him out of the room again. As he left by the side door, Zerco entered. Recognising him, the Huns all stood up, cheering with delight and pointing at the little man. He had been dressed up in a girl’s robe. As the musicians played he danced around the room, chanting snatches of poetry and song in different tongues, now Latin, then Hunnic, then Gothic.
If the Huns had found the madman funny they found Zerco unquenchably hilarious. They roared with laughter, pointing and holding their ribs, some with tears rolling down their cheeks.
Through it all Attila remained stony-faced, betraying not even the ghost of a smile.
Hagan found the humiliation of Zerco too hard to watch. He stood up and began to move towards the door, intending to claim he needed to relieve himself if anyone asked. At that moment the main doors opened and Ediko returned, now flanked by eight Hun warriors. They had their swords drawn.
Ediko moved quickly to the couch where Attila was reclining. He bent over and said a few words to him, then passed something to him.
Hagan saw it was Freya’s blue glass bottle.