Читать книгу Ermentrude's Knot - Candi J.D. Holme - Страница 6

We left early in the day, with weapons at hand, along with the children, towed by men and women. The day was cloudy, with a brisk wind. We clung to our wool cloaks that were clasped at our shoulders with metal broaches. A few women wore blankets around their shoulders to cover the babes still at their breast. We hoped it would not rain, but this was quite possible later in the day, as afternoon and evening thunderstorms grew angry with black clouds and the thundering voice of red-haired Punaraz—his hammer striking his enemies. This would be a sign of war. Soon we would meet our foe.

Saskia and I rode our horses as noble warriors. We held our weapons tight in our hands, to be ready, at any moment, for a strike. We had seen it before. The sight of hundreds of men swarming over the land with their threatening axes and spears raised. Many warriors beat their colorful, round shields held before their large, muscular bodies, covered with grease and black paint. Many were covered in blood from the sacrifice in the sacred white grove. Their bearded faces, streaked with fierce markings of blood and ash, and their hair—long and wild manes. Some wore metal helmets, such as the Roman soldiers. Some warriors rode horses, but most men belonged to the artillery and the army, with their menacing swords held before them, or rocks, to be flung at the heads of the enemy. The men fought more with their sinewy bodies than with their weapons. Wodanaz’ strength made them fearless.

An enemy, facing such threat, would surely run to avoid sudden and harsh death. Often, a woman would find a warrior, felled by his foe, half dead on the ground. The woman would compassionately kill him, so he would not suffer death at the hand of an enemy soldier. Those belonging to the enemy, who escaped death, were tracked down and either killed or captured. It did not matter that you were a woman or a child.

Most men accepted the consequence of dishonorably losing their weapon, perhaps causing their tribe to lose a battle. They committed suicide upon loss of their spear or ax. We had seen this before, when we had accompanied our parents into battle.

When night came, we were tense and restless, despite our weariness from the cold rain that pelted our heads and backs a few hours before. The tribe of Gepids made camp with soft glowing fires, hidden by boulders, that would not attract attention from an enemy’s scout.

We slept by the rocks, wrapped in our wool blankets, with an article of rolled up clothing for a pillow. The ground was hard and seemed to penetrate into my spine, fusing me with the hardness. My body felt as durable as stone, slowly be- ing worn away, during a lifetime of weather. Everyone died eventually. When would my time come? I hoped it wouldn’t be tomorrow. I had much to live through, not really having lived much at all. I settled and closed my eyes, dreaming of my mother’s caresses and Father’s warm hugs. I saw their eyes, bright and blue, and then, weeping for the loss of their daughter. I fell asleep, nonetheless.

“Ermentrude, wake up!” Saskia yelled. “Eat this bread quickly. The enemy has been spotted down in the valley below. We must go!”

“Who are they?” I asked.

“They are the Bastarnae,” she replied. “They are a ferocious tribe that has moved into our land. Everyone wants our land, our livestock, and our lives! Where did they come from? Why don’t they return to where they came, instead of stealing our possessions?” She spoke with a sense of urgency. “Hurry! We must leave now! Get your weapons.”

I leapt onto Brunhilda, and reached for my grandfather’s sword in its sheath. The bronze hilt and blade gleamed in the morning sunlight, that sifted through the fog. Saskia led the way down to the men, who were positioned in their triangular formation, with the tip of it ready to lead and pierce the enemy’s rank. The enemy screamed their battle cries, and we answered back with our thunderous bellows. Our men roared as raging, blood-thirsty beasts would roar to frighten their prey; the women whooped loudly as the howling winds of the steppes. Our men met the enemy, as they moved swiftly toward us. The women waited, until called upon, continuing our war chants of death.

Even the children stood beside us chanting with their little voices, “Death be yours, my enemy!” The children, too, had weapons, with which they practiced mock killing and defense. Older children joined in the battle, behind their parents.

We watched our army advance and saw the enemy fall, wounded or killed, slowly struggling in the throes of death. Some of our men flung rocks and fiery missiles into the throng of enemy warriors. Men whose hair had caught fire, batted their arms to extinguish the flames on their sleeves and heads.

For hours, we watched as the battle raged. Women, such as us, scanned the slope for wounded men to retrieve and tend, or men who begged for merciful death, as they took their passage to Valhalla. The agony of the wounded men was soothed by their wives or mothers, daughters or sons. We shouted words of encouragement to them, so they would know they were mighty in battle and worthy of our respect.

Soon, victory seemed apparent with its striking silence. We cheered as our men returned to camp. They appreciated our supportive whoops and cries,

“Wodanaz helped our men return with victory and honor! We are victorious!” All were unified by these words and by the witnessed death of our foe. I raised my sword with Saskia’s blade crossed over mine. We were triumphant.

The rest of the afternoon we feasted on the captured food and mead. We were filthy with sweat and blood, but later, we’d wash and tell stories over the fires that retold, in our eyes, what we had witnessed that day. The men and women danced and sung to the music, played by the lyre and drums, well into the night. We danced with them. We sang our kin’ s songs of heroic deeds, as the bodies of our enemy lay on the hillside.

It was late when the Gepids finally slept, weary from the work of war. Saskia and I whispered our impressions of the battle. I spoke to her of one particular young man that I noticed wounded. I had cleaned his wounds and bandaged him earlier in the evening. He rested by the camp fire nearest our rock. My eyes closed and then, struggled to open, stealing one more glimpse of him. His name was Gerulf.

At morning’s light, I awakened and saw that he still lay asleep. Gerulf was several years older than me. His parents had passed on, to join his ancestors. He came from a noble family, so he was a valiant and important man in this tribe of the Gepids. Gerulf had looked up at me with proud blue eyes, as I knelt beside him to tend his wounds last evening. Now, as I watched him sleep, he looked as vulnerable as a rabbit, curled up in a peaceful ball. I wished for him to open his eyes, so that I might see them again. I decided to kiss his forehead. He jumped and sat up a little, noticing that I was a friend, not foe.

“I regret having to wake you, but I did not want you to starve. I have your breakfast, if you feel hungry. I’m sure you do, after that battle yesterday. If you need me to help you, I am available.” I spoke quietly, so as not to disturb others who were still in deep repose.

“Um, sure . . . thanks,” he mumbled, “I think I can manage, but if you have a few minutes, you might keep me company while I eat.”

I nodded my head, staring into his blue eyes. I spoke to him, brushing my long, blond hair; twisting it up in a knot, similar to the knot that the Suebian men wore. The Suebians, a Germanic tribe, were so fierce, that they constantly battled with their neighboring tribes. I once saw a woman secure her hair in this fashion, and I admired the style. So, I always wore my hair this way, as well.

“Do you need some help?” Gerulf asked, as he swallowed the last morsel. “I use to arrange my younger sister’s hair. I swear—I know how to style a woman’s hair.”

“I’m certain that you do. If you wouldn’t mind helping,” I said, “that would be lovely, thanks.” Gerulf swiftly brushed my strands away from my face, securely twisted and knotted my lengthy shaft of hair—one half around the other. Upon completion of the knot, he smiled admiringly at me.

“There! All finished,” Gerulf said.

“I didn’t realize a warrior could arrange hair,” I said.

“I am capable of fixing hair and handling a sword.”

“I suppose. But, you did not outmaneuver your combatant’s sword, as it scathed your neck,” I said, laughing.

“You are correct—but, I was busy fighting another warrior at that moment.” Gerulf’s smile was as warm as his eyes were cool blue.

“Then, why did you not hold one weapon in each hand, in anticipation of two men attacking you at the same time?” I posed.

“Is there no winning with you, Ermentrude?” he wondered, with good humor.

“I think not. For I am accustomed to winning any challenge. I can say, your talent with hair has truly won me over, Gerulf.” I smiled at him.

“Perhaps you will allow me to give you a gift, for tending to my wounds.” He reached into his satchel and pulled out a lovely, polished bronze mirror. “This was my mother’s mirror when she was alive, and now, I wish to give it to a lovely and kind young woman I have just met. I don’t often give away gifts that belonged to my mother, but I’m sure you have more use for it than me.” Gerulf watched the expression on my face change from wonderment to admiration.

“I wouldn’t normally accept such a prized gift from a stranger. I hope you expect nothing in return, for I have nothing,” I added, “Thanks, Gerulf.”

“Ah! But, I do. I will expect you to dine with me at every meal, so that I may acquaint myself with your charming beauty and mind. Afterward, you must soothe my jarred bones with stories of your childhood, of your kin, perhaps—did you say you have a horse of your own? Please tell me its name—Wilhelmina? Kasimira? Oh, I have it—Raimunde?” he mused.

“Brunhilda! My horse is my protector. She protects me from harm. May Brunhilda come with me to dine with you?” I asked with a serious expression.

“Your horse? Why not? Maybe she will protect you from my advances.”

“I’m sure Brunhilda will interfere with whatever you have planned, especially if you offer her a piece of apple.” I warned him with flirting eyes.

“I might give her a bushel of apples, if she slowly wanders away from us . . .toward the other horses,” he gestured with his hand. His eyes were lit with merriment. I loved those eyes.

“You are an amusing man. You make me laugh. How could I resist any meal with you,” I said. “Until the hour of midday, then. Be careful when you ride. Don’t fall off your horse!” I quipped, as I stood and returned to Saskia and our horses.

It was a slow journey through the mountains, but one I will always remember. The day was beautiful. The air was warm and filled with the buzzing of insects. I turned toward Saskia and said,

“I met someone with the most spectacular blue eyes.”

She glanced at me and asked, “And what about his intentions toward you, Ermentrude?”

“His intentions are to dine with me and make me laugh.”

“Be careful with your heart, my dear sister,” she warned, “Some men steal your heart, and once they have it, they fling it away.”

“I know. I will heed your words, Saskia. Your words are in my heart, and they will protect me from any man’s ill intentions,” I spoke with confidence.

Saskia shifted her weight on her horse and said, “Pay attention to your words, Ermentrude. Do not betray your intentions by speaking too soon of love. You know your heart and your love of adventure. Never smother the flame you have for freedom with the dark coals of heated passion for a man.” She smiled at me, knowing me so well. Saskia was wise, indeed.

“My heart, now, only sings, Saskia. It doesn’t burn from the coals of love,” I rebutted. “Gerulf has the most humorous sense, and he recognizes me for a beautiful and bright woman, who is kind and gentle.” I continued, “We are just becoming acquainted with each other. If I see he feels nothing more than respect as a friend, I will curb my heart.” I said with dignity.

“I am encouraged by your good sense in these matters, Ermentrude. I really do want you to fall in love, and someday, wed someone as unique as yourself. I will always guard your back, for I am your only true and dear friend,” Saskia spoke.

“I will always be glad for your guidance and your watchful eye, Saskia.”

We continued on, through the mountains, searching for little animals to capture and eat for a midday meal. Our stomachs growled. Why is it that bread does not keep a stomach satisfied? One must always hunt for meat, when no cheese is available. We would have to hunt for our food soon, or else our stomachs would grind themselves with pain, making it impossible to think.

Saskia spotted a fat, gray, furry head popping in and out of it’s hole. So, with great stealth, she crept around behind it’s home, about ten feet away, and waited behind a shrub, for it to reappear. With her mother’s ax raised above her shoulder, she saw the creature leave its hole, and flung the ax swiftly at the poor mite.

I had never witnessed such good ax-throwing before, and I was determined to learn how to perform such a feat. After Saskia pulled the animal away from its hole, and she retrieved the ax, I begged her to show me how to throw the ax with greater control after the midday meal. She agreed, for she loved to use weapons with great showmanship. I was eager to be her student. Yet, in my excitement, I had forgotten that Gerulf and I were to have our next meal together.

After our delicious meal, we walked over to a brace of trees with a wall of large boulders behind it. Saskia handed me her ax, showing me how to aim it at the target. The ax felt heavy and wobbled in my hand. I threw it several times and missed the target, so I continued to practice, determined to become as skilled as Saskia.

“You are throwing straighter now,” Saskia encouraged me, “so, throw with more force!”

She again demonstrated how to position my arm and hand to torque the ax, so it would fly in a defined path toward the center of the target, which was an old shield tied to a tree trunk. I attempted to throw the ax with increased force; I finally succeeded and whooped out loud, “WOO-HOOOO!”

Somewhere above the target, I heard a deep voice shouting, “WHOO-HOOOO!” and thought it was an echo of my own excitement. I realized that someone was standing on the boulder, just behind the trees, yelling at me. It was Gerulf!

“Hailsa . . . ax warrior! So this is where you are hiding. I had to look for you, since you missed our meal together! Remember our agreement? Did you forget so easily? Gerulf pretended to be crushed by my missed appointment with him at midday.

“Oh! Gerulf . . . I am deeply sorry! How could I forget a wonderful occasion, such as a meal with you? Please forgive me, Gerulf,” I apologized.

“Well, I can easily see why you forgot, with all of this to entertain you. Remind me never to miss a meal with you! I might be your easy target,” he smirked.

“How could you suggest that I wound you? For I have just helped to heal you. I would only throw the ax on special occasions, such as flirting with another woman, or taking Brunhilda without my permission, dear Gerulf,” I said.

“I must say! You won’t have any concern over that! Do not worry about throwing the ax at me! I will be on my best behavior, sweet girl,” Gerulf assured me.

“AHEM!” Saskia cleared her throat, bringing our attention to her frowning face.

“How much longer must I stand here and wait for you both to end this chatter and get on with the business of practice, Ermentrude?”

“Oh, ja, er . . . Saskia, we must return to the ax, of course! Do you mind, Gerulf? Oh, I forgot to introduce you to each other. Gerulf, this is Saskia, and Saskia, this is Gerulf.” I awkwardly introduced them. “But, of course you knew that when I mentioned that . . .”

“You really are a silly girl, Ermentrude!” Saskia shook her head, laughing.

Gerulf carefully jumped down to the gravel below. He walked over to us, as handsome as ever. I melted at the sight of his blue eyes and smiled wistfully.

Saskia searched my face to determine if it was friendship I was feeling, or wanton desire. “That’s what I was afraid of,” she scrunched up her mouth. “You’re in deep, deep trouble.”

I turned my head to speak to her, but it was too late—he was near me. He kissed me on the head, as a brother would do, and he took my hand, leading me away, as he bid Saskia farewell with, “Good to have met you, Saskia.”

I dropped the ax on the ground and stared up at him—those eyes put me in a trance every time I saw them. How could this happen to me? I wondered.

We walked around to the other side of camp, where we had some privacy behind a wagon, whose inhabitants were bathing in the river.

“Ermentrude, because you did not dine with me today, I must hold you to our agreement by asking you to ride with me this afternoon. We can talk of all the things we have experienced in our lives. I want to know more about you. I enjoy your company.” Gerulf’s words pleased me, and I wished to have his arms wrapped securely around me.

“I am sorry that I forgot, Gerulf. I guess you would be welcome to ride with me . . . and Saskia.” I said.

“Who is Saskia, by the way? Is she your guardian, or merely a friend? She is not your sister, but she is close to you, am I correct?”

“Ja, Saskia is all those to me. Saskia is my dear friend. We have been close friends ever since we were small children. She is regarded as a sister by me, even though I do have a little sister, Ava.”

“I see. You do everything together?” he asked.

“Ja, we eat together, sleep together, ride together, hunt together, bathe together,” I chattered.

“Perhaps you should ask Saskia, if I may ride and eat meals with you,” he suggested.

“Great idea! I will ask her today!” I said, with eager intention.

“Splendid! You go ask her, and I will find my horse. Meet me at the river when it’s time to ride,” Gerulf explained.

I raced off to find Saskia and my horse, with excitement in my footsteps. Gerulf seemed very interested to know me better. It appeared he had interests similar to Arnold and Bertram. This time, I welcomed the pursuit.

I found Saskia demonstrating her ax-throwing skills to six or seven children, where I had left her earlier.

“Hail, Saskia, I have a question to ask. Would you mind if Gerulf rode with us this afternoon? Oh, and we are supposed to eat together at meals. I hope you don’t mind. He will expect you to be with me, of course. You are a dear friend.”

“I do not mind at all. I will be your conscience, as I listen to your conversations. I shall judge Gerulf’s true nature,” she answered, acting as if she were my guardian.

“Oh, thank you, Saskia! Let’s go to the river and meet him.”

We led our horses to the river, where they drank thirstily. Soon, Gerulf approached on horseback, with another horse and its rider. This must be his friend, whom he thought to bring along, since Saskia would be riding with us. How wonderful! The four of us would ride together.

“I thought to bring my friend, Anselm with me,” Gerulf explained, “so Saskia and he can become acquainted.”

Saskia liked what she saw, but didn’t intend to appear too eager to mention this to me. She liked to play a cat and mouse game, perhaps? Saskia edged closer to Anselm, looking him over.

“I see you are a good hunter such as me! You wear your knife and ax, ready to throw without warning, Anselm.” Saskia spoke directly to him.

“And you must be Saskia, friend of Ermentrude. My pleasure to meet such a proud and keen hunter. Gerulf told me about your great ax skills. I wish that I had seen you throwing your ax earlier,” Anselm flattered her, without revealing his instant interest in her physical attractiveness—long limbs, strawberry blond hair, and magnificent green eyes.

“Indeed, who else would I be? Perhaps I could show you how to throw an ax differently, so you will be able to strike your target when it moves too quickly,” she suggested in a flirtatious manner.

“I would assuredly be taught a lesson I‘d never forget,” Anselm continued the flattery. Gerulf took a position by my side; Anselm swung his horse beside Saskia, so they could talk. Although, I knew that Saskia loved the chase as much as the capture, I hoped they would enjoy each other’s company.

“How good of you to bring Anselm, so that we can talk with each other,” I mentioned, to start the conversation with Gerulf.

Gerulf was eager to listen while I rambled on about myself. “My father is Ansgar of the Spears . . . as for me, I think you know some things already. Yet, certain things you do not know, such as my dreams in life. I want to wander the land and meet interesting people, as well as know their struggles,” I revealed. I paused, so he could talk about himself; I asked him questions about his life. “What are your dreams, Gerulf?”

“I am the middle brother of two brothers and three sisters. My parents died many years ago, attacked during travel into the Rūmōneis (Roman) lands. They were trading; I believe they were returning home with valuable goods, when the Alemanni tribe, or a rogue band, murdered them,” he explained.

“I am very sorry you lost your parents, Gerulf. How old were you? Where were you and your brothers and sisters when that happened?” I asked.

“Hmmm, I think I was about seven years when my uncle told me what had happened. We were staying at home with an aunt and uncle at the time. That would be my Aunt Soniefrada, who is a wonderful woman, and my Uncle Wallia, who is my favorite uncle. They thought of me as their own son, during my father’s absence. When my parents didn’t return, they took care of me. Uncle Wallia taught me how to use a sword, and taught me the ways of war. My aunt took care of me when I was injured. I had a talent for falling out of trees. That almost ended my life once. I had broken bones all over, and spent a great deal of time in her care. I promised never to climb a tree again,” he declared.

“So, have you stayed out of trees since then?” I asked with a smirk.

“Yes, I have. I stay as far away from them as possible, whenever I hear thunder. That’s how I became startled and fell out of a tree. There was thunder . . . a flash of lightening that set a tree close by on fire. So I jumped and almost broke my neck!” he said. I was amazed that Gerulf had survived that experience.

After a long two hours, we felt more comfortable revealing things about ourselves to each other. It was so easy to like Gerulf. His eyes were sincere and kind. I liked the way his eyes smiled, as well as his mouth. We had no problem thinking of topics to speak about. I felt this would be a long relationship—I hoped it would be.

Saskia and Anselm were also deep in conversation and laughing together. The long afternoon riding in the hot sun, seemed effortless, with such good company along. We each agreed to spend our time riding together over the next few days.

“I can’t believe it’s time to camp for the night,” I said. “I am starving!”

“Have you seen any animals to hunt for the evening meal?” Anselm asked Saskia after we stopped our horses.

“Ne, but if we are quiet, we might find a rabbit or deer in those woods. Let’s hunt something delicious!”

“I suppose we could help you hunt for something to eat. If we found a deer or two, we would be able to share it with the others,” I said.

We spread out, stealthily watching for animals to hunt, with our scent downwind. We held our weapons ready to throw. Gerulf signaled for me to go around a boulder to the right and to chase anything out toward him. Saskia pointed to a dark figure in the trees, and Anselm worked his way closer to see what it was. Gerulf and I crouched low in the brush; Saskia and Anselm carefully aimed their weapons at the dark figure. We crept closer, until we were only fifteen paces away. Someone’s foot made a slight cracking sound—a branch splitting; we froze, looking at a deer. It was a healthy-looking buck. A doe stepped out from behind a shrub, into the light. Soon two more deer presented themselves in partial light.

Anselm signaled that we each should aim for a different deer, to strike four deer, possibly five, if another one appeared. If someone felt they could manage with both their weapons, we could have enough meat for the tribe. Of course, I knew that it wouldn’t be me. I could defend myself, but hunting was another matter. Saskia was eager to throw her spear and her ax, so I thought it would be her day to impress us all. Anselm and Saskia were to throw their spears at the exact time that we threw ours . . . “THWACK, THWACK, THWACK, THWACK . . . THWACK!” Only, Saskia threw her spear, and then, her mighty ax. We wounded five deer. Several other deer ran away, as we saw some escape through the clearing in the distance. We crept closer to make sure that the males were unable to rise up and possibly gore one of us. A few of the deer struggled to move their legs; their bodies twitched, but none lifted themselves off the ground. We thanked the gods for providing this meat for our people.

“Wonderful!”I said.“That was simply wonderful! Saskia, you are a fine hunter.” Saskia noted that my aim with the spear was perfect. Gerulf and Anselm had never seen two women who could aim so well. Saskia was praised for her ability to throw both her spear and her ax so precisely.

“Whew! I really should get to know you better, Saskia! That was perfect aim!” Anselm said emphatically.

“Well . . . let’s get some help moving these deer where we can clean and roast them,” Gerulf said. “There will be a feast tonight—better make several large fires!”

Men and women slaves came to assist with the tasks of butchering the deer. I was relieved that I didn’t have to clean the carcasses by myself. The women prepared the meat on skewers over a fire and others sought some vegetables from their provisions in the wagons. It would be late before we ate, but luckily, the skies stayed light in the nighttime, due to the recent summer solstice.

Again, there was singing and dancing by the campfires. Children listened to the age old stories of their heroes and their famous deeds. These people were our kin now. We were connected with them through our gods and our sharing.

The next day, as we approached a region where we knew there might be other tribes, our eyes and ears were alert to slight movements and sudden noises. There were scouts in front of the procession of wagons and horses, who would warn us of any great danger. Little did we know what was about to happen, until it was too late.

A sudden shower of arrows and spears rained down upon us from every direction, as we passed through a canyon, causing our tribe to either leap for cover under the wagons, behind shrubs, or in gaps between rocks. There was nothing we could do, except wait. Some of the men, with swords and shields, rode ahead, to search for our attackers. Several people had been struck with arrows or rocks, and were lying beside each other, groaning. A few people were dead. Luckily, most of the children were under the wagons, or inside them. One or two children were struck and fell into the arms of their mothers, who were screaming. It was pitiful to see such a horrible sight.

In the distance, we heard shouts and grunts. Fighting had broken out between the men of our tribe and our attackers. We rushed out from under cover to join the battle. Saskia and I borrowed two shields to protect ourselves. Gerulf and Anselm told us to stay back, but we had to go see what was happening.

Ahead, we saw the bloody skirmish, with Gepids and enemy fighting each other on foot. Men on horses, skirted the circumference of the battle, looking for an enemy to wound. We heard yelling and the growling of men with bared teeth, forcing their opponents to their knees, and finally to their deaths.

After a short time, there was no one left to fight, as our enemies lay on the ground, heaped on top of each other, blood spilling from their wounds. Gerulf and Anselm, along with some other men, with whom they were familiar, returned to us, where we were wedged out of sight, in a cleft between two boulders.

“So there you hide safely. You should not have risked your lives to be so close to the fighting! Next time, you might not fare so well!” Gerulf warned.

“Ja, the enemy would have seen two beautiful women to capture for themselves.” Anselm added.

“If they dared to come near us, we had our shields and spears ready. We had protection here,” we boasted.

“Who are these warriors that challenge us?” I asked.

“We don’t know them, but perhaps one of the captured men will reveal their identity,” Gerulf explained, “when we ‘play’ with them a little . . . they will talk.”

“I have the feeling they won’t like the game we play with them,” Anselm added.

“You won’t have much to say to them, except, tell us who you are, or you die!” Saskia remarked, Gerulf and Anselm noting her comment.

“Perhaps, you should interrogate them, Saskia! Just threaten them with your ax, and they’ll wet themselves,” I laughed. We laughed heartily on our ride back to the wagons, where we knew we would find sadness and tears among those who lost someone dear to them.

People were already gathered around the dead and the wounded. The Gepids buried their dead in a stone circle before passage through the mountainous terrain. The deceased warriors passed into the peacefulness of Valhalla. Middle Earth is a world at constant war, with its victims being very young, as well as full grown. To grow old with your loved ones was rare. I wondered if I would return home to my family. I hoped I had a future with Saskia, Gerulf, and whoever else wanted to be a part of my life.

A pile of captured weapons, armor, and jewelry accompanied us the next day, along with ten men, who were our prisoners. They were blindfolded and bound, forcefully shoved along the trail, if they did not walk a proper line behind our horses. They were not treated kindly. At evening’s rest, they were forced down to the ground; given little water and food. No warm blankets were lent to them. They had to make due with the warmth of a fire and each other. It was unpleasant to be captured and tortured for any reason, as a prisoner of your enemy. This treatment eventually wore some of the prisoners down to a thin fragment of who they were in their tribe.

The day that we reached the other side of the Carpathian Mountains was thrilling. We could see a magnificent view of the valley below. We were close to the clouds and the gods that reigned over the people of the Middle Earth, where we roamed. We were excited to find a new place—away from the hordes of people, the villages of the Rugii, Venethi, Burgundiones, Vandili, and all the other encroachers upon our land, and our villages. I still had an unsettled feeling in my stomach.

While most of the Gepids continued down the slopes, I grew more impatient with the slow progress of their wagons. I decided I wanted to travel in a different direction—to ride north toward the great open steppes, for I loved the freedom and vastness of the sky, and the adventure of roaming on my horse.

Of course, Saskia was resistant to this decision at first. She slowly changed her mind after Gerulf and Anselm encouraged me to reason with her. Saskia rarely changed her mind.

“We’ll want our brothers, Gernot, Erwin, Alfons, and Bruno along for safety, of course,” Anselm insisted.

“When we have gathered enough supplies, and we are rested, it will be a good time to leave. The moon is right for travel north. Perhaps we will travel tomorrow morning, before the sun rises. We should say good-bye tonight,” I suggested to the group.

“I think we should ask the elders which direction is best. I was thinking we should ride down the slope along the Tyras River and turn north between the Hypanis and the upper Buh Rivers. Only a few tribes live there. It would be safer,” said Gerulf.

“Aah! Don’t the Fenni live close to this region? No one really knows that tribe well. For all we know, they could be cannibals, and we’d be their roast meat,” Anselm added.

Saskia felt uneasy, so she suggested, “We must talk to the elders and hear what they say, before we spend the day changing our plans several times. The important thing is to gather water and food. Tents would be good. Ermentrude and I can sew three tents for us to use for shelter. We still have the cured deer skins rolled up on our horses. Gerulf, you and Anselm must gather the other supplies. Can you find some extra blankets to use?”

“Good. We have a plan; now we must get supplies. We have little time. Anselm will tell our brothers to prepare. I must remember the water,” Gerulf sounded overwhelmed.

That evening, around the campfires, the Gepids ate, and we asked the elders the best route to travel. The elders counseled together, when they heard our intention to travel as a small group into the Venethi lands.

“You want to travel in such small number, as to risk sudden ambush?” one of the elders spoke, “That is foolish of you!” He tightly wrapped his cloak around his neck looking annoyed by our inexperience.

“Grandfather . . . we have the best warriors among us. We are able to pass through territory without attracting attention to ourselves because we are few,” Gerulf explained with eyebrows arched.

“That may be true, but the Sporoi tribes that live in that region, are murderers!” another old man added, scratching his neck.

“And we aren’t, when we need to be?” Gerulf continued.

“What about your women? Can you protect them and fight at the same time?” the oldest grandfather argued.

“We can defend our lives, dear grandfather,” I proudly said, “we are trained in weaponry!”

“That may be—but when you are fighting a brutally strong man, will you submit to his power, or find the inner strength to kill him? You are young and perhaps strong, but no match for a giant, if he should capture or destroy you!” said another elder, whose argument was making me nervous.

“We will stand united, back to back, and battle anyone who attacks us!” the brother, Bruno uttered loudly.

“When you sleep, your guards should watch the horses and be near your camp, so they can alert you to any danger. You must sleep with your weapons ready. You must camp in the forest and sleep under brush whenever possible,” proclaimed one of the elders with gnarled fingers.

We thought about the advice given to us during the evening, anticipating tomorrow’s departure with slightly less enthusiasm than before. I sighed and attempted to sleep, after a long evening of sewing and thinking. In the end, the elders suggested that we take the route through the mountain pass that led to the northeast, and down the Tyras and the Buh Rivers, into the Venethi lands. This Sarmatian land was settled for thousands of years by the Venethi, a Sporoi tribe, who came from the north. My father spoke of these people when I was growing up. Their land was east of the Gutthiuda; it was vast! I was eager to learn about these people, as some of their ways were different. As I lay on the ground with my soft, woolen blanket over me, my eyes grew heavy; I fell asleep dreaming of these Venethi people.