For the Germans had a custom, handed down from their ancestors, of resisting anyone who made war upon them, and of not suing for peace. (Caesar)
“...and then Berut said, ‘you’d be surprised just how many legionaries don’t mind getting on their knees!’” Jotapa said. When I remained silent, attention focused on sorting through the collection of old sewing tools, shells, broken beads, and arrowheads some of the more enterprising children had “traded” for a sack of dried apple slices, Jotapa nudged me with her hip. “You haven’t heard a word I said. Where is your head today?”
We were alone in one of the tribe’s supply tents. The children’s collection was mostly trash, but I didn’t have the heart to turn them away.
Another thing I lacked were the words to tell her what had transpired between Arminius and I the previous night. I still couldn’t believe he’d said it again.
I’ll make you queen of Germania.
No, it was unthinkable. Germania had no sovereigns, and that was not going to change with us. And I certainly wasn’t going to betray Reimar and the Chatti to do it.
Jotapa looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Will you please tell me what’s going on? First you show up with a blackened face, then you warn me away from your brothers while you make a hermit of yourself. You’ve avoided Arminius like he has a pox, even though you must have things to work out with him. Now you’ve been acting like a ghost all day. Tell me. I can’t help if you won’t tell me.”
Sometimes I hated it when she was right.
“All right.” I pushed the basket of junk away and sat heavily on a barrel. “The short version is that my brothers threatened to kill you if I keep going with this rebellion and after Arminius got me to agree to let him help, he kissed me and he has repeatedly asked to marry me.”
Her jaw fell open and her eyebrows shot almost all the way to her hairline. “You’ve kept all this from me for more than a week? He kissed you after that fight with the Mattiaci and you haven’t said a word this whole time!”
Her voice rose to a squeal, and I hushed her in a panic.
“Anyone can hear you,” I hissed.
She composed herself, took a deep breath in and released it. “Tell me every single detail.”
By the time I finished, the sun was lower in the sky and I’d had to hush her no less than five times.
“I hate to say this,” she said without an ounce of regret, “but Arminius may be right. Wiltrud is too committed to freedom to abandon you if you break your betrothal.”
“That cannot possibly be the point you derived from everything I just told you.”
Jotapa shrugged. “You don’t want to marry Reimar. Marrying Arminius would at least be interesting and from the sound of it you’re far more amenable to his proposal than Reimar’s bloodless ‘I’ll never love you’ shit.”
To emphasize her point, she dropped her voice an octave and exaggerated each word in the poorest imitation of a man I’d ever heard. Still, it made me laugh.
“And, this ‘I’ll make you queen of Germania’ shit is at least romantic. Lunacy, but romantic. If you’re his wife, you can curb that sort of thing.”
Now it was my turn to gape at her like a dead fish. “I don’t know how you managed to draw any of these conclusions. I have no more desire to marry Arminius than I do Reimar. And you shouldn’t take the queen comment lightly.”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “You have never, not once in the time I’ve known you, spoken about a man like this. And the way you tried so hard to cut him out of the rebellion? It all makes sense now.”
“I cannot fathom what makes sense about it.”
She laughed. “You poor thing. As usual, you’re thinking too hard about it. I know it’s hard for you, but my advice is to trust him, as much as you can. He saved your life, Thusnelda, with no thought to his own. That means something and you know it, or you would never have let him talk you into working with him.”
Oh yes, I hated it when she was right. My skin crawled with the need to run. Had he truly bought my trust so easily? He caught the top of the sword, where the blade is dullest.
“I see that look on your face.” She took my hands in hers. “No need to panic. I’m not saying you need to hand him the reins and start taking orders. I only mean that it might be good if you think a little less where he’s concerned. It might even be fantastic if you let yourself enjoy him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I knew exactly what she was talking about, and I needed to change the subject. “Speaking of Arminius, will you please deliver a message to him? I can’t be seen with him, and he needs to know Wiltrud and I will be meeting with the chiefs’ wives and other other important women.”
The words spilled out of my mouth in a rush, and thankfully, Jotapa kept her thoughts to herself. For once.
“Very well.”
Long after she left, I remained in the supply tent, blindly sifting through a basket of junk and arguing with myself over Jotapa’s advice. She couldn’t be right. If she was right, that meant I had more at stake than I realized.
* * *
True to her word, Wiltrud gathered the most prominent women from the attending tribes under a hastily erected canopy. We sat on furs and stuffed pillows drinking ale. Some women stitched tapestries and clothing, but most were content to laze about and enjoy a few rare hours of idleness and luxury.
I stayed quiet, listening as they spoke of their harvests, their children, plans for the coming season. My nerves strung tight. Arminius knew this was happening and knew the risk I ran by being here. I could only hope that meant he was keeping my brothers distracted. It was my first real test of trust where he was concerned, and I kept wringing my hands in the fabric of my trousers to dry the sweat on my palms.
“Our winter stores are looking scant,” Wiltrud said. “The Romans take more every year.”
While it was true that Varus increased his taxes at every opportunity, I’d seen the Chatti’s winter stores and they were far from scant.
Chatter dwindled beneath the canopy. The women’s eyes darted to each other and their cups and needlework. Anywhere but at us. A Chauci woman, Rihilt, spoke first.
“We may not survive this winter. They gutted our stores. We’ve brought all the bronze works we have here to trade for more grain. If they tax us before we leave…”
The space erupted. Stories and complaints poured like wine from a broken amphora.
“They took my sons, all of them.”
“They left us only sick livestock. We can’t breed them, and I’m not sure they’re safe to eat.”
“A patrol raped my daughter. She hasn’t spoken since.”
“The road to our village is lined with crucifixes.”
The three women of the Mattiaci remained silent, staring at me without flinching.
“It doesn’t have to be this way.” I raised my voice to be heard. “We outnumber them.”
“No, we don’t,” one woman scoffed.
“Yes, we do.” I rose to my feet. “If we unite—”
Another woman spat. “I’ll be dead and buried before aligning with the Marsi.”
“They’ll come back even worse than they were before. Look at the Marcomanni and the Gauls!”
“Enough!” I clapped my hands. The open canopy allowed us to see in all directions. The soldiers were far away, uninterested in a gathering of women. I gathered my strength to say the most dangerous thing I’d ever said. “If we unite, temporarily, we have everything we need to push them out.”
“How temporary?”
“A few seasons,” I said. It would get me nowhere to relay to them what Arminius told me: The alliance must hold for years before the Romans decided we were no longer worth the trouble. “Only a few seasons. They’re spread thin—”
“Did your Roman lover tell you this?” The tallest of the Mattiaci women stood. We were of an age, though she was fiery haired and thicker with muscle. A tapestry of tattoos down her bare arms told the stories of her victories in battle.
“He’s Cherusci, and he’s not my lover. He knows things about them, things we can use to our advantage.” I snapped out a defense of him I’d never once considered. Something about hearing her, this Mattiaci warrior, level any kind of criticism at Arminius raised my hackles.
“She says this,” she pointed at me, “but what she doesn’t say is that she and Arminius are no better than the Romans. You fall in line with him or you die, isn’t that right, Thusnelda?”
Eyes narrowed in suspicion, whispers rippled through the gathering.
“My husband and brother were killed after Arminius came and ordered them into the woods,” she went on. “They killed more than twenty men, even men from the Chauci and Vangioni. My husband wanted nothing to do with that whoreson and—”
“Whatever happened to your husband, he was a coward.” I rose to my feet. “Any who choose subjugation over freedom because they fear the cost are cowards. The Romans will not stop until we are all slaves or dead. Next winter will be worse if we don’t do something. Arminius can stop it. The Chatti and I can stop it. We have to unite now while we still have the chance.”
She lunged for me with a shrill cry, but the other women, including the two Mattiaci with her, grabbed and restrained her.
Wiltrud jumped to my defense. “If you must fight among yourselves, save it for the contests. Settle your differences there and be done with it. Thusnelda is right. We must act decisively as one people if any of us has any hope. There will be no Chatti, no Cherusci, no Mattiaci, only Romans if we let them have their way.”
She swept back into her seat, her descent graceful. “We will sit down and discuss everyone’s concerns.”
Under Wiltrud’s guiding hand, we listened to each woman over the next several hours. By the time we finished, I discovered who we could count on, who still needed to be convinced, and who Arminius and I could discount.
Sunna and Donar greeted me with joyous abandon when I finally emerged. All things considered, it had gone better than I expected. Attacking the issue head on was best, especially if it meant we didn’t have more confrontations like we’d had with the Mattiaci.
The fiery-haired woman appeared in my path with her compatriots.
“My name is Arin. My husband was Fusco. You would do well to remember those names.”
“I won’t forget.”
They parted to let me pass. My hounds dropped their ears and the fur on the backs of their necks rose as we walked by.
The combat contests couldn’t come soon enough.
* * *
Haustblot could not, of course, be a festival entirely devoted to peaceful trading and celebrating. The Germani were too quarrelsome for that. Fortunately, we had a time-honored tradition for settling all but the most egregious of quarrels: the contests, during which an aggrieved party challenged their enemy and they fought to submission to determine who was right. The winner named their recompense, and the loser paid.
Sometimes, however, the contests were an opportunity for competing leaders to set themselves apart. Which is why I found myself sneaking to Arminius’ tent to order him into the contests. Reimar was going to settle a matter about a choice fishing hole and to fight potential challengers for the Chatti throne. I intended to fight Arin to put that matter to rest. Arminius had to fight.
He met me behind the Chatti horse corral with crossed arms and a scowl.
“I thought I told you I’d take care of your brothers,” he said. “But then you send Jotapa to tell me things we should have discussed, and now you have us meeting like two criminals.”
“We are two criminals.”
A shaggy horse swayed its way between us and stopped to sniff at Arminius’ chest in loud puffs, ruining the stern effect Arminius clearly wanted to impress upon me. He unfolded his arms to nudge the animal’s head out of the way, then snorted a laugh when it lifted its upper lip and jutted its head and neck as far as they could stretch.
“Fine, we’re two criminals. What did you need to talk to me about?”
“The contests.” I gave the horse’s rear end a gentle push, and it drifted in the direction of a clump of grass still clinging to life. “You need to fight. Reimar has three fights, something about how he settled a property dispute, but you—”
My mouth clamped shut when I saw his expression fall flat.
“Yes, Thusnelda. I know I need to fight in the contests.”
I’d done something wrong and couldn’t for the life of me think of what. “You’ve been gone a long time. I don’t know what you remember about us and what you don’t.”
“When—” He reached as if to grab me by my shoulders and shake me, but instead ran both hands over his scalp in rough pulls. “I will say this once more and that’s it. I’ll never repeat it again. I am Cherusci. I remember everything. I damn well know what our people like to see before they choose a war chief. And this may have escaped you, but I’ve risen quite high through the ranks. I do know a few things about winning allies and proving myself. To everyone but you, apparently.”
Another horse meandered to us, sniffing at his hands as if he hid treats.
“Augh!” He threw up his arms and the old, fat animal trotted away. That was probably as fast as it could move.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Other horses had been gathering as we spoke. They had almost no interest in me, but something about Arminius called to them.
“This is funny to you? Of course this is funny to you. I’m just the Roman who doesn’t know anything about the Cherusci and can’t be trusted with washing his own ass let alone knowing that he should be at an event guaranteed to secure allies.”
He kept on grumbling as he walked away and my laughter died. I jogged after him and put myself in his path.
“I did not tell you about wiping your own ass.” Almost instantly I regretted the words.
He cocked his head. “Maybe, maybe not. You either think I can’t be trusted because I’m too stupid to know what to do, or you think I can’t be trusted because I was taken hostage when I was a boy and for some reason have yet to make you believe I am not a Roman.”
I scoffed. “It is not that simple. Someone has to ensure we’re all in accordance. Someone has to ensure we’re all doing all we can to make this a success.”
“And it has to be you, doesn’t it?” He hummed under his breath and the corners of his eyes softened.
His words were too close to Jotapa’s. Reimar didn’t give me nearly as much trouble when I approached him about his participation in the contests, and he had grown up here.
“I understand you’re used to people taking your orders, but I am not one of your soldiers,” I said. “We’re supposed to be equals. Since you and Reimar can hardly stand to look at each other, let alone sit down and discuss a plan, it only makes sense that I act as the go-between. If we’re all acting without informing the others, we don’t have a plan. We have chaos and the makings of a disaster.”
At some point during my rant, we’d drifted closer together. His familiar scent snuck up on me beneath the cutting stench of horse manure. Suddenly, I wanted to know how his hand was healing. I wanted to know if my memories exaggerated the power of his kiss. I wanted to know if he kissed me, would I feel better about trusting him?
Down that road lay catastrophe.
The way his jaw flexed told me he wanted to argue, but he surprised me. Whatever argument boiled on his tongue, he swallowed it.
With a solemn nod, he said, “Very well. I will let you herd me as you see fit. You’ll be pleased to know, four men have accepted my challenge. There’s one more I need to secure, but, and I know this will be hard for you, I want it to be a surprise.”
First Jotapa, and now him. Not that I didn’t want to know whom he’d be fighting. Not that I didn’t think it was important to know to ensure his opponents were strong enough to impress, but not so strong that he truly risked losing. Not that I didn’t think it was important to challenge people from tribes more likely to support us. No. I didn’t need to know any of that.
I could trust him. Yes, as long as I kept repeating it to myself, I could trust him.
* * *
“These games make us look like barbarians,” Segestes said with a sneer.
I stretched my aching neck and bent first to the right, then to the left to give my throbbing ribs the same treatment. Arin and her friends kept themselves unavailable to meet my challenge. That left me challenging on the spot when my turn came. Fortunately, two women and a young man stepped up, each hoping for their chance to improve their reputations. I denied them that chance with three resounding victories to the cheers of the crowd. My current pains were a small price to pay to be seen by all and sundry as a fierce warrior.
“To them, we are barbarians,” I said. “Do they not have the same practice?”
“It’s different when they do it. It’s a sport for them, not this disorganized rabble in the mud.”
Pointing out that a similar, though smaller, disorganized rabble had been how he’d claimed the Cherusci chieftainship so many years ago was pointless.
The crowd cheered on the current match between two men fighting over breeding rights to an aurochs. Perhaps it was barbaric to settle squabbles with our fists, but matters settled in a contest were settled, not to be revisited. The endless arguing that defined the Roman way seemed to always leave both parties unsatisfied. When Varus or his agents presided over our quarrels, more often than not someone ended up with a knife in the back.
Almost directly across the fighting pit from where I stood, Arminius, Ermin, and Berut pushed through the crowd to get the best view. His gaze flashed to mine, just long enough to let me know he saw me, then back to the fight. Segestes shifted next to me, leaning in close.
“Do you think I am stupid?” He asked in a voice for my ears alone. “Do you think I don’t know where you’ve been disappearing to? Who you’ve been with despite my word?”
He wouldn’t do anything here, not with so many witnesses, not while Arminius stood so near. Letting myself stop pushing back against against trusting him offered a wholly unfamiliar emotion to take the place of conflict: comfort. Security, even. If Segestes so much as raised a hand to me, I could fight him, of course, but I also knew with certainty that Arminius would be at my side in an instant. It was a warm kind of feeling to know such a thing.
Women from across the tribes came to me with their struggles and assurances they’d secure their husbands’ loyalties. In one move, I became more than a single tribe’s princess. I had powerful allies in Reimar, Wiltrud, and Arminius. I had Levin and Jotapa. Yet I remained under my father’s thumb.
“Keep it up, and it won’t be Levin who watches you anymore,” Segestes said. “So help me, I’ll keep you in chains until your wedding.”
He meant every word.
Just a little while longer, I reminded myself.
“Thusnelda.” Konrada cleared her throat and shuffled into my periphery. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but the weaver women are about to go to war with some shepherds and I thought…”
I would take care of it, because I always took care of such matters, even when my own father threatened me. I put Segestes’ threat out of my head, as I so often did, and dug back into work. Weddings and rebellions and icy eyed Cherusci in Roman armor would have to wait.
* * *
Wout’s fist landed like a hammer against Arminius’ jaw, and for the dozenth time, I regretted watching. Arminius had beaten one man after another, each triumph a little slower than the last. Against Wout, a man his equal on the battlefield, his energy flagged.
It turned out Arminius’ decision to “surprise” me with his final opponent had less to do with a surprise and more to do with keeping me from interfering. There were plenty of good reasons to fight Wout. As his sister, I knew that better than most. But Arminius fought with a sneer on his lips that spoke of motivations much darker than proving himself stronger than those loyal to Rome.
Half the tribespeople were present, watching, waiting to see the victor before making their choice. Many watched Arminius with loyal eyes already. This demonstration of his skill was crucial. Our people never trusted a war chief whom they hadn’t witnessed on the battlefield. Since we couldn’t engineer a battle, least of all one in which he fought on our side, this was the next best thing and thank Tyr, it was working.
Wout was smaller than Arminius, but faster and just as strong. He moved like lightning, like Donar had blessed him for just this purpose. Segestes watched at my side, cheering him on and casting sidelong glances at my silence.
Dressed in only their trousers and mud, Arminius’ body sported unnatural lumps and bumps from his earlier bouts. I imagined that once clean, he’d be a walking bruise, a wall of blacks, purples, and sickly greens. One man hadn’t been shy with his nails or teeth. Those wounds could fester if not treated appropriately.
Despite the fall chill, moisture gathered on my tunic from my unrelenting sweat. Blows, grabs, throws, kicks, the sickening crunch of bone against bone, the gasps and shouts, and I could do nothing.
Wout caught Arminius under the chin and, for a heart-stopping moment, I feared Arminius wouldn’t get back up. He lay on his back, eyes closed, as Wout strolled closer, putting on a show for the crowd.
My breath froze. I flinched in anticipation of the finishing blow but didn’t turn away. Wout stood directly over him and placed his foot on Arminius’ face, driving it into the mud. He raised his arms to a mixed response of cheers and boos. Then, with more speed than I thought possible, Arminius grabbed that foot and launched his legs up to tangle with Wout’s, bringing my brother down.
With his legs locked, Wout struggled fruitlessly. Arminius held on with all his strength and twisted his body, wrenching Wout’s leg into an impossible angle.
People shouted for Wout to surrender. Arminius’ lips moved, speaking too low for any but Wout to hear him. Wout kept struggling.
My heart sank for Wout, who would no sooner surrender than Arminius. He frustrated and disappointed me more often than not, but he was still my brother.
With a stomach churning series of cracks, his lower leg snapped. Arminius released him and rolled away to the cheers of the crowd.
I gasped for air, somewhere between relief and horror. Wout might never recover from that wound, but Arminius’ victory was decisive. The three of us had successfully showed the tribes we were uncommonly strong warriors. We’d have no shortage of allies now.
Segestes’ palm slammed into my shoulder. “Is this what you wanted? Are you happy now?”
My hand fisted, ready to settle this now, but Segestes sniffed and stepped back. Arminius found his way between us, his broad, mud-covered back seething with deep, heavy breaths.
“You and your son should learn to accept when you’ve been beaten.”
A scream worked its way up my throat, where I locked it away. I wanted to beat my fists against his stupid back.
“Stop it.” I shoved my way between them and squared off with Segestes. “You are a fool if you think I wanted my brother crippled.”
He raised his hand to slap me, but his eyes flashed over my shoulder. He lowered his hand and stomped into the pit to help Wout.
“Perfect,” Arminius said. “Now I’ve undermined Segestes, too.”
“Perfect?” I whirled on him. “You made me look weak. I don’t need you to handle him. I didn’t need you to break Wout’s leg.”
His brows drew in. “I’m not permitted to defend my—”
“I am not yours,” I hissed, dropping my voice in the presence of our increasingly curious audience. “We’re supposed to be partners, and you make me look like...like one of your whores.”
He recoiled. “I don’t have whores.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Am I interrupting?” Reimar’s flat voice startled me. “You did well out there. The talk among the Marsi is they will follow you into the underworld.”
That was good news I was in no mind to appreciate.
“I was just leaving,” I said. “Reimar, our families should share a meal soon.”
“You won’t stay and tend my wounds?” Arminius winked at me. The bastard.
“I’m afraid there’s no medicine for the illness in your mind.”