Читать книгу Ermentrude's Knot - Candi J.D. Holme - Страница 9

By nightfall, we had covered some distance along the Wisla and were almost at my parent’s home. Something was odd, though. At a distance, I noticed there was no light inside the house. My parents always had a fire lit in the house. That made me nervous. Did they leave home to search for me? I thought it best, if I searched the house for signs of them, and, if needed, I would ride over to one of my uncles’ homes to inquire about my family.

“Saskia, I am worried! I don’t think my parents would have left together to look for me. Mama would have stayed, hoping I’d return.”

“I hope my parents are still at home . . . at least my mother,” she said.

We rode closer, up to the front door. It was open. I jumped off my horse and walked into the doorway to peer inside. I heard nothing and saw no one. I didn’t want to go inside, either. I yelled, “Is anyone home? Mama? . . . Att-a? . . . Adalwulf? . . . Ava? Anyone?” I didn’t hear a sound. It was the stalls that we visited next. That was just as peculiar! Not a single animal had remained. I wondered where the animals could be.

We decided to ride over to my Uncle Vaclav’s house a few minutes away. I leaped off my horse, ran up to the door, and knocked. Not a sound came from their house. I slowly unlatched the door and looked inside. There were no fires glowing here either. “Let’s check the stalls!” I suggested. We raced over to the barn. There were no signs of any animals, as well. “Saskia, this is very strange. Now I am really troubled. Where is everyone?”

“I think we should look around at your other relatives’ homes before we panic,” Saskia whispered, as if someone was listening and watching us. We rode to my other two uncles’ homes. There was absolutely no one around, and that included the animals; we panicked!

“Ermentrude—I’m afraid that something has happened to my village, too. My family should be at home though. Maybe they know what has happened here.”

Our horses rode away swiftly, with us hovered over their withers, holding on for dear life. As we approached Saskia’s village, we realized it was the same . . . no inhabitants, no livestock. There was no one to explain what had occurred. Saskia took the lead, dismounting at her parent’s home, and running up to the door to open it. Inside, she found no one. We raced over to the stable and saw nothing in the dark, empty stalls. Again, we searched the whole village, only to find emptiness. The only thing we could do now, was to gather any supplies we found and look for signs of what had happened.

“Saskia, I am so puzzled by this. What could have happened to hundreds of people and their livestock? Gerulf is probably blind and in serious danger, so we need to find him, but we must also discover where our kinsmen have gone. I wish we had someone to help figure this out. Do you have any ideas?” I asked.

Saskia looked at me with her consoling eyes and said, “You know what this means, don’t you? We must go to the other tribes to ask if they know where our two villages have gone. They may have seen intruders. We should get one of those tribes to help us find our kinsmen. We must ask the Gepids first, as they are the friendliest to our people. The Venethi’s might also assist us. It’s difficult to know which group will help and which will capture us these days!”

“We must find weapons somewhere. I am sorry your mother’s ax was stolen. It would be very useful, now,” I said. “Where should we look for weapons? If someone captured our people, they surely took every weapon they found. They took the animals and probably all of our valuable goods and food, too,” I look disheartened. Saskia knew just what I was feeling.

“Ermentrude, climb into the roof, you might find a spare weapon. If I search in the stalls, there might be some food that was stored in a secret place. Even look in the trees! Att-a hid many things in the trees so they would be safe from threatening tribes,” she told me. We both spent hours examining every possible spot for weapons and supplies. I found some grain for porridge, some old pots for cooking, along with three wooden bowls and some tools. Saskia discovered a frayed blanket and some torn linen, a sling for throwing rocks, and a badly dented kettle. When I searched the stalls, I uncovered a broken spear, a club, and a few old tools that could be used as weapons.

“Saskia! Look at what I found!” I displayed everything in a pile on the ground. “I will look over by the trees, now. This is similar to playing a game of hidden treasures. It’s exciting!” I started to smile at having so much pleasure retrieving hidden objects.

“Good! Very good! I have found a few things, as well. I hope we find sufficient food though. I am starving!” Saskia added, with satisfaction showing on her face in the morning light. We continued looking until we could not keep our eyes open any longer. We were both exhausted, so we went into a house near our piles of supplies and fell asleep.

Sometime in the early afternoon, we awoke, feeling more alert. I sat up and later, walked to the door to check on our supplies. They were still there. I thought to myself—how will we carry all these things? I thought we must decide what to carry with us and what to hide again. We spent some time deciding this, as we prepared some porridge to eat. After burying some of the items, we spread branches and leaves over the burial site.

“Let’s pack up and get on the trail, Saskia!”

“Ja! We are prepared to find our people and maybe Gerulf.” We left the abandoned village of the Gutthiuda, determined to resolve the mystery and find Gerulf. For hours, we rode to the village of the Gepids, our allies. We hoped they would want to help us find their Gepid friends and our families. We had to convince them that the Gutthiuda needed their help. The Gutthiuda had always helped the Gepids defend their villages. Now, it was time for the Gepids to find where the Gutthiuda had been taken, if an enemy had dragged them off as slaves.

As we rode into the village of the Gepids, I thought of Gerulf. A single tear fell from the corner of my eye. I thought of the morning we kissed. I felt my heart would never be the same . . . not until I found Gerulf again. Saskia thought it best to visit an old acquaintance of her father first. His name was Hathus. I wondered whether my own father had any old friends in this village. Saskia and I dismounted and walked up to the home of Hathus, where she remembered visiting a few times as a child. She called out and knocked on the door, “Hathus! It’s Saskia of the Hunter. I need your help! May I enter?”

“Saskia? Of course, my little fox! Come in, come in!” said a voice within the house. Hathus, an older man, sat in a chair, whittling a small piece of wood with a knife.

We stepped inside the cheery home and saw that each wall had been tinted colors. Many homes had this feature, as they were otherwise dreary and dark inside. Mama wanted our walls colored in a similar fashion, but never had the time to do it. Of course, the slaves could have found the time. I thought . . . even the slaves had disappeared back in our villages. They were probably captured, as well.

“Hello, dear Hathus, my father’s friend! I’m happy to find you in such good health at sixty years,” Saskia greeted, “I have come to find you, to ask for your advice,” she mentioned, as she kissed his cheek. Hathus squinted to take a better look at Saskia.

“I don’t know how much advice you’ll get from me, as I am older now, Saskia,” Hathus explained, as he slowly lifted himself out of his chair and tried to walk over to the fire pit with the aid of a walking stick.

“Oh, you always gave my father advice, so I came for a dose myself. I am very grieved at returning home to find our village empty—my parents gone. My friend, Ermentrude, is lacking her entire family, as well,” she explained.

“Hello, my dear Ermentrude. Welcome. Would you both be interested in a bite to eat? I have some good cheese and fresh bread from my friend’s farm, which is too much for me to eat by myself, now that Simildi, my dear wife has died this past year,” Hathus divulged.

“Oh . . . Hathus, we are very saddened by this news of your wife departing for Valhalla. May Wodanaz look after her for you. She was a good wife and mother . She was a good friend of my mother, as well. She will be missed. We will surely keep you company and share your meal as we talk,” Saskia continued.

“So, all the villagers are missing? I heard about this . . . from some of the traders in our village. They traveled there a few weeks ago, and returned here, saying that no one was around . . . not even a sign of a mouse,” he declared with his bushy eyebrows raised an inch above his eyes. “Everyone wondered where they went off to.”

“Has anyone tried to search for them?” I asked, with hopefulness written on my face.

“Ne, you know that our people are strong, and at times, fierce fighters, but they do not go out of their way to find trouble, knowing that it’s so difficult to get out of it,” he spoke, gesturing with his hands raised in the air.

“We have another concern—for a good friend, who is a Gepid. We met him and his brothers on a trip about a month ago. We were captured as slaves, our Gepid friend was blinded, and his brothers were slain—left for the wolves and bears to devour. We need your men to help us find our friend, and our families. We must find our friend, Gerulf. We think he might still wander below the Carpathians.” My tears slid down my face and onto the linen tunic I wore.

“You were captured as slaves? My dear . . . how did you escape? Do you know who captured you? Where were you captured, and where were your friends attacked? Do you know? Without this information, we could search forever and never find your friends, nor the men who did this terrible deed.” Hathus was filled with wrath.

“It was interesting—how we escaped with two stolen horses, from a Sporoi farm near the Carpathians. We left hastily from this farm, somewhere northeast of the mountains in a lowland, near a river east of the Wisla. It was probably the Hypanis River, near the Bastarnae tribe—or it could have been further north in Venethi territory. Their language sounded different from our own words. They might have been Sporoi,” Saskia noted.

“Why do you think this, Saskia?” Hathus asked, resuming his meal of bread and cheese.

“I have heard their language before, when my father and I hunted at the head of the Buh River two years ago. We saw some men dressed similarly to the ones we saw at the farm. Their words were almost the same as the words we heard, giving us orders to be quiet, when we were captured,” Saskia informed him.

“Hmm. Today, I will speak to the council of elders. We will gather information of your villages’ disappearance. I will tell them of your problem, which is now our problem, since some of our own men were slaughtered. The Gutthiuda people have always befriended us. They are true allies. I will get the council to help you find Gerulf, and the barbarians who killed his brothers. Perhaps it will take two or three groups of men to search these vast areas. You will lead them to the place of your capture. This act will be avenged by the Gepid people!” he exclaimed. Hathus pounded his fist on the table, making the morsels of food jump.

“Oh, thanks to you, dear Hathus. Our parents will be pleased that you found the time to help their daughters. Thanks for your help, my dear friend!” Saskia said. She hugged him and kissed his cheek again, much to Hathus’ pleasure at being kissed by a young woman. He missed the touch of his wife.

“You may accompany me to the council of elders, and wait nearby, for the council’s decision. If they need time to think, they are fools! For we must not waste too much time thinking on these matters!” he added.

The moon was in the correct phase for the council of elders to meet. Saskia and I walked with Hathus to the meeting that late afternoon. It was held outdoors in a large space, away from the village. We returned to the village to wait, thinking of Hathus speaking to the council. We hoped he’d find out what had happened to our villages, as well.

Saskia and I were eager to hear what the council’s decision would be. We even made a plan of what to do once we found our families. We would stay with them for a day, perhaps, then take my brother and Saskia’s older male cousins with us to find Gerulf. If our fathers wanted to join us, we would welcome their help. At least, we had supplies with us, for the journey.

It was evening when we saw Hathus walking toward us. His face was serious, but his stride was energetic, despite the use of his walking stick. He was walking rather fast—so briskly that I thought he would fall at one point.

When he reached us, he shouted, “It was difficult to get an answer, but the council agreed. They will gather men who want to search for your friend, Gerulf. They will help you avenge the deaths of his brothers, and do whatever else you need. But, the council deemed it unnecessary to search for your people. They left of their own free will, according to a witness who told the council that the Gutthiuda have moved on—south to new lands. The witness asked why they were leaving the Wisla. They told him there was better land in the south. Your people were tired of so many invasions into their land. The Marcomanni, the Quadi, and the Langobardi are eager to spread their nations eastward. Your people left their homes for their allies to use. They left two weeks ago.”

“Then, we must leave tomorrow with your men to find Gerulf, and evidence of what happened to our friends. We must take our revenge!” I spoke.

I imagined Gerulf dead, or struggling, without weapons—blind. I only hoped he was still alive. Saskia mourned the loss of Anselm and all the brothers, but tried to be strong. She felt as though there would be no rest until their deaths were avenged. We both felt we would never be as close to someone, as we had become with Gerulf and Anselm. Our hearts would never fall for that emotional trickery again. For if we were to meet someone, and get too close, we feared we might lose them as well.

Saskia was eager to return to her village, to gather items we needed for the journey back toward the mountains. We went to the brother of Hathus to ask for his help. He was eager, offering his wagon, as well as his two oxen. He said he would drive the wagon himself, since we were inexperienced at driving oxen.

The next morning the sun’s rays spread upon the meadows. We arose and readied ourselves for the long trip. Once we said good-bye to Hathus, we rode to his brother’s house and collected the wagon and oxen. His brother, Wallia, was a pleasant man of fifty-six years. His wife was about the same in age. She seemed as though she was looking forward to a great adventure. She must not get away as often in her older years, I guessed.

“Thanks for driving the oxen, Wallia,” Saskia said. “I see you have someone to share the journey with. Is this your wife?” she asked.

“Ja, this is my dear wife, Anya. She enjoys a good adventure,” he spoke, smiling at his wife, with love in is eyes. Wallia drove the wagon with his wife, directing the oxen, to navigate the muddy path between our villages. They both held hands at times.

After an hour, we arrived at Saskia’s village and loaded up the wagon. Saskia was saddened by seeing the empty paths between the houses, where neighbors once came and went throughout the day. There were no visiting neighbors now.

By mid-morning, we returned to the Gepids’ village. Twenty men mounted on horses, and the same number on foot walked beside a small number of women. Oxen pulled several wagons, loaded with supplies, behind the small army and cavalry of men holding spears, swords, and other weapons. They knew that some of their own people had been attacked, captured, or murdered.

We rode our horses to meet them, stopping only to tell them where we were headed. Wallia’s wagon joined the other ox-drawn wagons behind the soldiers. Two horses led the procession, with men holding effigies of Wodanaz and Punaraz, the wolf and the bear. We joined the cavalry in front of the procession beside the wooden effigies. The buzzing insects told us that it would be another day of heat. There would be few clouds to shade us from the blaze of the sun.

We rode our horses, in a solemn mood. We were thinking of our revenge once we found the farm where we were once held captive. There would be bloodshed. There would be wails from people fleeing from us. We would find our captors and threaten them with our swords. If we found Gerulf, I would surround him with my arms and give him my heart immediately. I was hoping I would not find him dead or mangled by an unfortunate encounter with a bear. Images darted through my mind, until I was frantic. I was afraid we wouldn’t find him. My thoughts returned to the farm, where we were held against our will, as slaves. How would we find the men who took us . . . the men who killed or maimed our dear friends for no reason besides cruelty?

“Saskia . . . we are on our way! Can you believe it? We will finally meet our enemy. I hope we find Gerulf and discover what happened at our camp below the Carpathians. Do you think we can still find the place?” I asked.

“I really hope we can. I can’t stop thinking about it . . . I mean, Anselm was subdued and killed, but how? Perhaps Anselm is still alive. How do we know? Are you sure that it was Gerulf that fell out of the tree and was blinded? It could have been someone else. Anything could have happened to him. If we do find out that he survived, we must search for him—for your sake, Ermentrude.”

“Oh, Saskia, how could something so pleasant become something so unpleasant? I wonder if our whole life will be filled with wonderful events that become filled with horrible memories. I am afraid to love anyone else—for fear that if they are wounded or killed, I will ache inside, as with these memories of Gerulf,” I murmured.

“Ermentrude, I understand what you are telling me. I feel the same way. I was beginning to really like—no love Anselm. He was so witty and such a great hunter. I can see him now . . . in my mind, stepping quietly in the forest, holding his spear, aiming it at a deer, and his face, all lit up, at killing it. It seems that it happened yesterday. Then, I see visions of him on the ground, outside the tent, with his weapons stolen and his body cold with death. I cannot sleep at night,” she said with sadness in her words.

“I know . . . it has been difficult for me to sleep, too. I think of Gerulf, and I cry myself to sleep. I feel anger at what happened, and I want to find out who hurt him. In my thoughts, I practice ways to kill those evil men!” I said.

The sound of our horses trotting in unison with the others, made me feel as a warrior, going off to avenge the deaths of our friends. I looked over at the men who rode with us. There were so many who were young, but many who were more experienced in battle. Some had scars, such as my father’s. The women seemed wise in their years. I could see it in their faces. They probably had many experiences with war. I wondered how many men they saw die, or tended, who were wounded and crippled. How many would I see in my lifetime? I thought, as I lowered my head. After a half day of riding, our cavalry halted to rest in the scorching heat. They found shade under a group of birch trees.

The next day, Saskia and I led the way again, searching for the place where we had lost our peaceful existence and our innocence. We rode for many hours up the lower slopes of the mountain.

“Ermentrude, I feel we are close to where we were captured. I think we will find it soon. It might be another full day of riding. I am nervous about seeing this place again. Do you feel the same?” Saskia asked, dismounting her horse.

“Yes, of course I feel the same. I also want to discover what happened with the brothers, Anselm and Gerulf. We only know a small part of what might have happened. I can’t wait to get there. I wish we could fly . . . as a bird . . . to get there, don’t you?” I questioned. I dismounted and stood, gazing at the river. Birds were wading in the water with their scrawny legs.

“That would be wonderful! We would be able to fly there in one day or less, and fly to meet our parents the next day! We could search for Gerulf, too. Wouldn’t that be amazing?” Saskia exclaimed, tethering her horse to a tree by the river. “For now, I think I must bathe in this soothing water. Come join me upstream, where no eyes can watch us. I know a spot with large rocks, so we can wash our clothes,” she said. The wagons were still far behind us. They had stopped to make camp for the midday meal again.

We stretched our legs and roamed along the river bank. The river was slow and lazy downstream, near our village. Here, in the foothills of the Carpathians, the Wisla runs faster. People use it for transporting salt, flint, and amber, as well as other goods for trade. I had heard that the Wisla River connects to other rivers, such as the Viaduna (Oder, Odra) River. I thought about how I could spend my life traveling to distant places on a boat.

Saskia found the place with large rocks. We peeled off our filthy tunics immediately. Both of us walked into the cold water, deciding to jump in together to ease the shock of of it on our skin. It was wonderful to swim in the water for a while. After we soaked in the river, we scrubbed the filth off our tunics, pounding them on the rocks with the aid of a soap ball made from goat fat and wood ash. Once the clothes were fairly clean, we draped them on the rocks to dry. We each had a second tunic to wear, as our laundry dried on a sunny rock and tree branches.

“I wish we could find a boat to float in,” I said. “I could live on a boat all my life!”

“If you decide to live on a boat on this river you will be stuck in ice in the winter. Then, what will you do?” Saskia asked.

“I would have to slide the boat up and down the river—maybe let a horse pull it,” I explained.

“But the horse would slide break its legs! Wouldn’t it be better to train some wolves to pull your boat?” Saskia suggested.

“I guess that would be better. Maybe I can buy some dogs to pull my boat. At least, they would not bite me!” I replied, laughing; we returned to camp again.

Some of the men were already mounted on horses. The wagons were almost ready to leave. Saskia and I collected our horses and placed the damp clothes in a basket on our wagon. Maybe they would dry by nightfall. We rode with new hope of finding the place where we had once camped with Anselm and Gerulf.

In the morning, we woke up early, knowing that we were closer to the site of our capture and the demise of our friends. Eager to locate that place, we rode ahead with several scouts. It was important to find a good trail for the wagons, since the terrain was becoming more difficult as we climbed the foothills below the Carpathians. By the right bank of the Wisla, there were many cobblestones that would help the wagons move uphill faster. A narrow gap between the hills was ahead, but we thought the wagons would fit.

We rode further for several hours, and searched the meadow for any tree or rock that revealed the place we sought. A scout went back to the army of soldiers to tell them which direction to follow. Up ahead, we saw a familiar outcropped ledge of white rock that was prominent on the ridge above us. I remembered seeing it before camping the night before our kidnapping.

“Saskia! That ledge of rock . . . is it the one we camped near with the brothers?” I asked. I reined in my horse; Saskia halted beside me.

“I think so. Let’s ride around up there and see what we can find. Oh—and there’s the grove of trees where the brothers must have hunted for deer—only they were hunted by our captors . . . the heathens!”

We rode slowly, for we were afraid of missing evidence of what happened here. As we rode closer with the scouts, we searched the ground, the rocks, the trees, for anything unusual. I looked up in the tree branches, vaguely hoping that I would glimpse Gerulf still up there. I examined the place where I thought we had once erected our tents, but I found nothing. Saskia and the scouts walked around on the ridge, but no one found any remains of the struggle we experienced a month ago.

I continued to inspect the ground for blood splatters amongst the small stones and leaves, where I thought the brothers would have hunted. Saskia and the scouts joined me. At one point, I crawled on my hands and knees, looking for any small but significant sign of murder.

“Ermentrude! Look over here! I found some blood dried up on this pebble. It’s so small, you can hardly see it,” Saskia shouted.

“Hmph—let me see it! Do you think it’s human blood?” I asked, wrinkling my forehead. I looked more closely at the pebble, noticing a dark patch of earth. I knelt down and brushed the detritus away with my hand. There I saw a small coin . . . a Roman coin. I held it up and showed it to Saskia and the men. I looked up and saw a piece of cloth flapping on a tree branch. Saskia climbed to retrieve it. When she climbed down, she inspected it for any familiar texture. Was it linen? That was what Gerulf had worn in the summer—linen—woven from flax. She gave it to me to examine.

“I wonder if this was torn, as Gerulf fell out of the tree?” I guessed. I put it in my satchel and searched for any other evidence of ambush. We walked through the brush beneath the trees. I knelt down on my hands and knees, moving my hands over and under the low plants that lived there. Then, I felt it—a hard, rounded object that moved. I grabbed it and stood up. It was a broken spear. It had runes carved on the staff. I showed it to Saskia, and she bent over in horror. Her right hand raised up to her chest. She was in shock.

“Do you recognize this?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said quietly with tears streaming down her cheeks. “It was . . . Ans . . . selm’s.” Saskia dropped to the ground, wrapping her arms around herself, realizing that Anselm, or any one of the brothers was brutally murdered. I stooped down beside her and held her in my arms.

I said, softly, “You know—it could have been Anselm that fell out of the tree.” She rested her head on my shoulder and cried. She couldn’t speak a word. I took her hand and walked with her toward our horses. We rode back to the army of people with grief in our hearts. We feared we would never know what had really happened here. I feared I would never know love again, as it was with Gerulf.

As we descended the slope toward the train of Gepids and horses, I felt determined to locate the farm, where we might find more clues telling what had happened during our enslavement. My anger surged at finding some evidence of the brothers’ demise. Their murder seemed more real, now. It wasn’t something we thought might have happened. It had indeed occurred! I wanted the heads of those murderous heathens!

We told our companions of our findings under the ledge and in the trees. Wallia and his wife consoled us. Everyone vowed to continue the search for the villainous group of men who killed the brothers and kidnapped us—no matter how difficult it became. We felt reassured that we would find the murderers . . . and take our revenge!

Slowly, we departed the area, driving the wagons up into the highlands. It took many more hours of riding before we came to an overlook. Saskia, the scouts, and I scrutinized the small valley below, looking for any signs of life. In the distance, above the valley, we noticed a small herd of what appeared to be goats, grazing on the sparse tufts of grass beneath their hooves. I smiled at Saskia.

“This is it! We are near the farm we came to find, Saskia. I don’t see the farm, though,” I said. I scanned to the right side of some trees and saw it—the farm! “Ah! There! See?” I pointed.

“We must make a plan. The men would know how to approach this place without the Sporoi noticing us,” Saskia spoke.

“Good idea! Let’s find the the Gepids’ leader!” I added. We were thrilled to find the farm where we were once held as slaves.

The leader of the Gepids was tall and blond, with a scar along his forehead. I wondered how he acquired it. He smiled at us as we approached him.

“Have you found more evidence of the attack that took place?” he asked.

“Yes, we found the farm! It’s down in the valley—come up here and see for yourself, captain, I said. “I remember the goats over there on the hill, and the farm is to the right of the trees. It’s such a beautiful place. Unfortunately, we were taken there without being asked. The villains never harmed us, as we were a gift to a woman named Draga. Draga was kind compared to the men who killed our friends,” I said.

“Do you know for sure that your friends were killed?” the captain asked.

“Ja—Draga told me it was so. She did say that one of the brothers was blinded by a knife, when he fell out of a tree, so he might have survived. This morning, I think we found that place. We found blood stains, a gold coin, and a piece of linen from torn clothing,” I reported. “I found a broken spear that Saskia knows belonged to Anselm.”

“When we escaped, we only had Draga’s information. We never had time to find out what had happened to our horses. Draga would have tried to find out more, but we jumped at the chance to escape, when it was offered,” Saskia clarified.

“Hmm. I see. We must raid the farm, where the offensive brutes left you as slaves. We will ride in at dusk, when their guards are eating. Perhaps they will be tired from a long day. With luck, we may surprise those heathens that killed your friends. You spoke of Draga with kindness. Is she the mistress of the property? I only hope her life will be spared by our soldiers,” the captain said. “It will be a massacre of innocents and guilty . . . for there’s no way to distinguish them.”

“We understand, sir. If we see Draga, we will order her to ride with us, for her safety,” I said. “May Wodanaz be with us!”

We waited, out of sight, until darkness crept over the neighboring hills, and shadows fell upon us. We armed ourselves with weapons and shields. We rode down the dark slope swiftly with intent . . . to avenge the deaths of our Gepid friends. May Wodanaz give us the strength and endurance to fight these men, who murdered the innocent brothers. I held back my tears and steadied my sword and shield, ready for battle.

As we neared the farm, the warriors yelled and roared their fiercest and most vindictive insults against the occupants. Inside the buildings, men grabbed their weapons and stormed outside to meet the wrath of our army and cavalry. Our swords sheered off heads, split open chests, and speared arms. The outer buildings were set ablaze, and livestock was taken away. Horses were captured, and the enemy slaughtered. Revenge was brutal.

Saskia and I rode rapidly, around the perimeter of the farm, to find any man that we could. We worked together to serve our need—to punish them for their disregard for life—to force them to beg for mercy, on their knees—and slash their ears and noses. Once they tasted our form of torture, they would plead for death—and we’d oblige. With one certain jab to the heart—it would be over. They would fall to their knees, then, face down in the dust.

After my third victim died, I no longer winced. I was a young warrior . . . proud of my first real battle. I now knew how it felt to take someone’s life. Saskia withdrew her sword from a man’s neck; his blood spurted everywhere. On her horse, she chased another man around the yard, until he tripped and fell, giving her time to thrust her sword into his right side and withdraw it. A large man came at her from the left, but I rode up to her side, just in time, to distract him, before lopping off his head. Who knew we were capable of such ferocity?

As Saskia and I looked about the yard, we saw no one else to attack, so we rode back to the front of the house waiting for something to happen. We’d be ready to kill again, if needed. We heard children’s screams from inside the house and decided to avoid terrorizing anyone innocent with our swords. We backed away, riding up the slope to where the Gepid women waited with captured horses and livestock. They saw us riding toward them, in darkness, our clothes splattered with blood. They looked afraid, but we smiled at them and yelled,

“Hurrah! Revenge is sweet—oh Gepid sisters!” Only then, did their faces and shoulders relax.

I heard a loud series of whinnies from somewhere behind the group of women, so I rode around them to inspect a captured horse that excitedly reared up on its hind legs. Perhaps it needed some reassurance that it was safe among these strangers. I jumped off my steed and studied the horse. It drew closer to me and snorted, as though relieved to see me. I patted its neck and withers, stroking its side and spoke to it quietly. I noticed that it resembled Brunhilda. I spoke its name,

“Aah, Brunhilda, my sweet horse. You are Brunhilda, aren’t you? I missed you. Did you miss me? You probably thought I’d never find you . . . right? Well, you’re mine, and you will always stay with me,” I cooed into her ear. Brunhilda snorted with satisfaction. I led her over to the other horse I had been riding, and introduced them. Brunhilda sniffed the mare that I had ridden to the farm; the mare shook her head and mane, stepping back a few paces. They welcomed each other with nudges.

Saskia rode up to us and laughed at me conversing with the horses. “So, you finally found Brunhilda, I see. It’s a good thing she wasn’t captured by Sarmatians. They have an appetite for horse meat, you know!”

“Please don’t tell me that! I have enough to concern me. I must look for Gerulf’s horse. . . and Anselm’s horse. Help me find them, Saskia.” We had captured fourteen horses, but it was quite dark by now, making it difficult to search for these two horses. We thought it best to look tomorrow.

I did not see Draga during our battle. Saskia had not seen her. Perhaps Draga had hidden. If so, she had hidden well. Our only hope of discovering what had happened to her would be to search the farm tomorrow. We hoped to find her and thank her, as well as, inform her of how we had escaped. Perhaps she would be willing to travel with us. We would first see if we could find her.

We returned uphill to our camp, overlooking the dark valley. The women prepared the meal, as the men slowly returned up the hill. The campfires were lit, warming us in the late summer breeze. It would not be long before the winter winds blew inland from the sea. I wrapped a blanket around me, as Saskia and I sat by the fire. We had washed off the stains of our revenge and the sweat of earning it. We were warriors, such as the men of this tribe. Tomorrow will offer a closer inspection of our deeds this night. We fell asleep late, after telling the Gepid children and women how we had fought the Sporoi. Their blue eyes glowed in the firelight, as they listened.

The next morning, we awoke to the pleasant chirping of birds up in the tree branches. Saskia opened her eyes and smiled at me.

“I saw you battle some strong men yesterday. I was worried when two of them came at you from the left and right, one after the other. I thought you would need my help. You stood your ground, and raised your sword, to remove both their hands in two swift moves of your blade. I was very proud of you, Ermentrude,” she said.

“Thanks, Saskia. That is very good of you to say. Your att-a would have been extremely proud of you, also. You struck each man with all your might. You had slain quite a few big men with your sword, as well. I had to think about what they did to Gerulf, to find my inner strength at times, but I found it very easy to punish them without mercy. Those men will never harm anyone again!” I said.

“Ermentrude, we must find out what happened to Draga and to our other horses. Let’s have something to eat and go down to the farm with our weapons. I will ask anyone I find, if they know about the horses and Draga. Perhaps we will also learn about the fate of our friends, when we were captured, and they were attacked.

“That could be an interesting visit. We should take a few men with us. They can help round up anyone who wishes to join our group, as well as any coins, or gold we find in the house,” I suggested.

We ate a meager breakfast of porridge and milk, excited to head off to the farm to search for Draga and the missing horses. The sun rose, as we rode down the grassy slopes toward the farm. Outer buildings smoldered in their ashes. Bodies of the dead were strewn on the ground. We rode past a garden surrounded with a fence and into the yard near the entrance to the house.

As we entered the house, we heard the scurrying of feet and the scraping of chairs on the floor. Our eyes peered into a dimly lit room, where a fire once burned in the fire pit. We noticed a woman, sitting, with her head bent over her lap. Her hands were folded, quietly resting there. Other figures crouched behind furniture, hiding from us. Some small children played quietly in the corner near a doorway that led to another room. In all, there were less than seven people inside. As our eyes grew accustomed to the low light, we saw that the woman in the chair resembled Draga. Her face lifted upward and turned toward us; we knew that it was indeed Draga.

“Draga! You are alive!” I said. Draga studied my face, and a glint of recognition appeared in her eyes. She leaned forward. Her head tilted to one side; she opened her mouth to speak.

“You! You destroy everything! You and your people . . . kill my precious sons . . . my mother, my father . . . ruin my home! May your people die . . . terrible death! Your Gothic revenge has ruined me! Go! Live with the animals that you are!” she screamed. We left with our heads lowered, for we knew the destruction we had caused.

We searched the farm for someone who could tell us more, but everywhere, there was death. We mounted our horses and rode back to camp. My heart was heavy with sadness at seeing Draga again. I thought she would be happy to see us. Instead, she grieved for the loss of her sons and parents.

Saskia saw this in my face and decided to speak, “Ermentrude, do not feel sorry for Draga. She is the enemy. It was her men that attacked us! It was her sons that harmed us! It was her husband’s men that killed the brothers and blinded Gerulf! They are the ones who captured us and made us their slaves! Draga’s colors have changed. She will never be one of us!”

I nodded my head, acknowledging this truth. “I know you are right—my heart is pained though—just a little—for the loss of her kindness. You are right, Saskia. I must remember what happened to Gerulf and Anselm—to their brothers. Two families were destroyed . . . all because of her men.”

“We must search for the horses now. I hope we find them. It will be of some comfort to find their steeds,” Saskia said.

“I can remember Gerulf’s horse with its white eye and notched ear. It had white marks on its hind legs. Do you remember Anselm’s horse?” I said.

“Anselm’s horse was dappled with gray and white spots. Its mane and tail were dark; its hooves were dark, too. That’s enough to recognize it,” Saskia said.

Back at camp we walked over to the horses hobbled with rope, grazing on grass. A man guarded them. We searched among the horses for identifying marks, but we did not find the ones we remembered as belonging to Gerulf and Anselm.

“Their horses might have been sold or traded in a nearby village, Saskia. We should find the villages where they were probably sold. The Gepids would know these places. Let’s ask them,” I suggested.

“We could search forever and not find the horses, but I guess we should try,” she answered. Both of us looked disheartened at the enormous task before us. We headed for the main part of camp.

We asked some of the foot soldiers where the nearest villages would be, and whether anyone would be willing to accompany us on this quest. Two men told us of several villages to the west that were settled by the Naharvali tribe. We decided to start there, since they were the closest. Some men were willing to go with us and search for the horses. The rest of the people would remain here at camp. We would need supplies and our horses. We planned to leave the next day when the sun rose.

In the morning, we met our escorts, Eiriks, Evorik, Roderic, and Rochus. They were riding fine steeds; all were experienced cavalrymen. Two were older men, who had roamed the land from the Danuvius (Danube) to the Mare Suebicum (Baltic Sea), and from the Rhine to the Hypanis River. They had helped the Romans with minor skirmishes over land, and had traded with them for goods. They wore tunics and capes made of fine linen and leather, but had Roman belts with gold buckles.

I was eager to hear Rochus and Evorik’s stories of adventure, during our ride to the nearest village of the Naharvali people. Their stories were filled with descriptions of Roman buildings and cities filled with marketplaces that sold anything you wanted. They described the women with their hair piled high on their heads, their beautiful ‘stolas’, and sandals. Water seemed to flow freely out of the fountains and into the bath houses, as well as high above the countryside in arched structures called ‘aqueducts’. I marveled at each new description of their food and homes, as well. The Romans seemed to be very rich with many coins. If I could only see all the wonders of Roman life for myself. I’d be thrilled.

The other two men were much younger. Roderic was a serious fellow. He never smiled. He seemed intent upon getting to the destination and accomplishing the mission. He rarely spoke at all—a quiet man. Eiriks was a jovial man, who loved to wink at us with a great smile after telling a good joke. He was also a good listener, when we shared events of our own. He was very curious about how we had traveled without our families. He wondered where our husbands were—in battle, or off visiting a town to trade goods? He was amazed when I told him that we ran away from home to find great adventures. The other men thought we were a bit crazy for doing so. Eiriks understood our need to explore the land and the people—the curiosities, and the beauty.

Before midday, we arrived at the Naharvali village. Roderic decided to inquire at the village blacksmith about the horses we described to him. The two older men, Evorik and Rochus, thought they would investigate some shops. Meanwhile, Eiriks would accompany us to the local marketplace, where we would search.

In the marketplace, there were people selling livestock, clothing, pottery, leather goods, beautiful amber jewelry, silver and gold bracelets, fabric, and plenty of fresh food from crops and gardens. At one stall, I inquired about several pieces of jewelry; asking whether there was anyone new in the village. I searched articles to see if any had belonged to the brothers or to Saskia and me. Perhaps they were brought here to be sold. I was stunned when I picked up a mirror similar to the polished bronze mirror that Gerulf had given me. I was disappointed that it was not the same mirror. I thought of Gerulf’s blue eyes staring at me. I missed his laugh.

Next, I searched for Saskia’s ax in the weaponry stall. I failed to find any that resembled her ax. I didn’t see any items that I recognized as belonging to the brothers, either. As I walked between the stalls, I saw some deerskin tents standing to the side of a stall. They looked identical to the ones we had made. Upon closer examination, I thought the stitching to be mine. I had the habit of stitching very crude patterns, and these stitches were undoubtedly identical to mine. The skins seemed to match, so I looked closer at the opening flaps. I noticed my mark, XXX where I had sewn them. I had no doubt that this was one of the three tents I had sewn. I looked at the other tents and found my mark again.

I asked the vendor where she had found these tents. The woman was happy to tell me about finding them on a short journey through the Carpathians. Her friend’s family had accompanied them. They found not only the tents, but a man who was wounded. He was injured from falling, and he was blinded, bleeding from his eyes and other wounds. I held my breath. I was astonished to hear a perfect description of Gerulf, as the wounded victim. With further insistence, the woman promised to take me to her friend’s home for a meal. I told the woman that I would return with my friend, Saskia, and then, we would go together.

“Saskia! I found the tents we had sewn. The woman who was selling them told me that she had seen Gerulf. He was wounded and blind, but alive! Oh, Saskia! Can you believe it?” I shouted. “Did you find anything?”

“I found this!” she smiled. It was the ax that her mother had given her. We were amazed to find it. It was old and probably of little value to someone else.

“Hurrah! You found it! I wonder whether the others discovered anything, especially the horses, or better yet, the brothers and Anselm, of course.”

“Let’s go find the men and find out,” Saskia said. So we walked through and around the perimeter of the marketplace. Eiriks appeared by a stall filled with weapons. He smiled at us. He knew we looked excited, and that we must have learned something. He rushed over to us.

“You both look happy. What have you learned? Did you find out something useful?” he asked.

“We found Gerulf’s location, and we are going there at our next meal. A woman knows where he is and will take us there—can you believe this good fortune?” I said.

As we walked back to the woman’s stall, we talked some more about the tents. Eiriks insisted that he buy the tents for us, but we declined the offer. We were more enthusiastic about seeing Gerulf again.

The woman packed up her wares and slung them into her cart. She started to push the cart ahead of her, but we tied it up to my horse for pulling. I thought of Brunhilda and Gerulf. Gerulf and I would ride Brunhilda back to our camp. Perhaps Roderic found Gerulf’s horse. Gerulf and I could ride beside each other. I felt breathless with excitement.

The woman took us up to the door of an old house. Smoke was spiraling up from the roof’s vent. Someone was home. She yelled inside, “Tota! You have guests for dinner, my friend. We must talk.”

A tall, blond matron appeared inside the doorway, smiling at her friend. “Oh! Elduara . . . it’s you! Did you say you brought some good company for a visit? Are they your friends from the village? Come in—come in, good friends.” Tota warmly invited us into her home.

“Tota, this young woman is called Ermentrude, and this is her best friend, Saskia. They are with their friend, Eiriks, this tall and handsome man,” Elduara explained. “They have come to see your son-in-law, Gerulf.” When the words, ‘son-in-law’ reached my ears, I gasped. Saskia looked at me with alarm. I prayed it was not my Gerulf.

Tota urged us to wait; she fetched her son-in-law, so we could meet him. I clenched my fists to my breast and closed my eyes, praying to the goddess, Frijjo, that it was not the Gerulf I knew. Tota returned with the son-in-law, who was indeed blind. He was indeed my dear Gerulf. I bent my head and tried to hold back my tears of both gladness and sorrow. His blue eyes were covered with scarred flaps of skin. His mouth was still the same, smiling at what ever he was imagining.

I walked over to Gerulf and spoke softly, “Gerulf, my dear friend. How happy I am that you are alive,” I whispered, hugging him. “I am grieved that your sight was taken from you.” I swallowed hard, as he returned a hug and a smile. “So . . . you are married, now. I hope you are happy with your new bride. What is her name?” I continued, despite the wretched pain in my heart.

Gerulf spoke tenderly to me, “Ermentrude—my lovely sister. I missed you! I thought you were captured and enslaved. I saw when those men took you and Saskia. I am so happy that you are free! Yes, I have married a beautiful woman. She cared for me when I was wounded. I thought I would never find you again, and I thought . . . but never mind, now. I shall introduce you to my lovely qen-s, Vilocia. She is kind, as you, Ermentrude.”

Tota walked into the room holding her daughter’s hand, leading her slowly. Vilocia was also blind. Gerulf felt for Vilocia’s hand and grasped it for courage. He needed it, to tell me that he was happy . . . even without me. He probably felt that I would have rejected him, now that he was blind. I know that I would have loved him despite his blindness, but eventually, I would have moved on. I wanted more in life. It hurt me so much to see Gerulf wounded, but I realized that it was best that he found another love. He was happy with Vilocia. I smiled, and tears welled up in my eyes.

As we ate our meal, we listened to the account of how Tota and her family had found Gerulf. Later, I told them how his injuries were avenged. Gerulf was thankful for that, but he had a forgiving nature, now that he had Vilocia. Saskia asked Gerulf what had happened to Anselm, half knowing the answer herself.

“Anselm . . . was taken prisoner by the Sporoi. He might be a slave, or he might be dead. He was beaten and taken away, but I don’t know where. He looked very bloody when I last saw him. I don’t know whether he survived. As for his brothers and mine, I know some were slain, and perhaps, some were taken as slaves. I fell and was wounded by the Sporoi, either Antes or Sclavene . . . hence my blindness . . . so I know nothing more. I am sorry that I don’t know more of what happened that day. I hope someday you will discover the truth. If you do, I hope you’ll tell me, as I’d want to know.”

Vilocia held Gerulf’s hand. I wished that it was my hand he held. As we left, I promised him that we would return, to tell him if we ever found Anselm. If found, we would surely ask Anselm what had happened to the brothers. Sadly, we left Gerulf, thanking Tota for her hospitality, and Elduara, for her helpfulness. I smiled at Vilocia and asked that she take good care of Gerulf. I hugged Gerulf for the last time. I took the scent of him with me.

We left for the village blacksmith to find our companions. Rochus, Roderick, and Evorik had spoken to the blacksmith and many merchants during the day. It was getting late; we wanted to make camp and discuss what we had learned from our visit.

As we rode out of the village to make camp, Saskia and I traded information about what we had seen being sold in the marketplace. There were items for sale that we had never seen before. Many items were unique—of Roman design; some were grotesque and unimaginable as goods that would be bought for daily use, or of decorative value. There were mounds of skulls and tables filled with animal parts. When I came across a table covered in eyeballs, I cringed. I couldn’t focus on thinking of these wares, being preoccupied with thoughts of seeing Gerulf. My heart sank at the thought of losing him forever, but I was grateful for his life and to know he was happy.

“Ermentrude? I think that Gerulf . . . if he could have seen you, he would have fallen in love with you. You looked so radiant standing there with him. He would have seen your beauty and would have come away with you. I know he still cares for you,” Saskia said, in a consoling voice. She knew I was aching for the loss of him—my first love.

“Saskia, thanks for saying that. I feel empty and alone right now, but I will feel better with time.” We left the village after the men returned, not finding any new information.

We decided to visit the second Naharvali village the the next day, to see if anything turned up there. I wondered whether we would ever find Gerulf and Anselm’s horses, as well as my bronze mirror and grandfather’s sword. Perhaps, we would discover where Anselm was being held against his will as a slave. Slavery was common, and there were thousands of slaves in Middle Earth, where people lived. It might take a lifetime to locate him.

The next morning, we rode to the Naharvali village by the Viaduna River. It was a splendid day. The sky was a luminous blue, such as Gerulf’s eyes, before he was blinded. Tears streamed down my cheeks again. I wiped them with my sleeve.

“Are you okay?” Eiriks asked, noticing me wiping my tears. He leaned over and patted my leg. It was a comforting gesture from someone I was getting to know better.

“Thanks, Eiriks. I am still in shock from our visit yesterday. Gerulf was a new love of mine, when he disappeared. I finally see him for the first time; I find out he is married, but alive. I can’t even see his blue eyes anymore!” My eyes streamed more tears. Eiriks leaned over, took my hand, and held it tightly. He wanted to comfort me, and this was the only way he could, riding our horses. “Thanks for comforting me, Eiriks. You are a wonderful friend.”

Saskia sadly looked over at us. She was sorry that I learned about Gerulf’s marriage so unexpectedly yesterday. She was despondent herself, at hearing that Anselm was probably a slave on someone else’s land. Even worse, he might have died from his serious injuries. I closed my eyes, and chanted a saying that would relieve me of sorrow and give me strength. When I opened my eyes, I smiled at Saskia. She knew the words I was chanting and was saying it with me. I hoped it gave her courage to find Anselm.

Before us lay a picturesque village beside the Viaduna River in the lowlands. We divided up, as we did the previous day, searching the marketplace where goods and services were offered. We visited a stall with housewares and jewelry, and sorted through many combs, mirrors, wooden and metal boxes, as well as charms that would bring someone good luck. I did not find my bronze mirror. I had hoped to find it here. Saskia suggested that we search elsewhere in the marketplace. I decided that it must have been broken or hidden back at the farm. I would never find it again. We left and headed over to the stables, where horses were sold or traded.

“Ermentrude, do you think we are foolish to spend this much time searching for the horses that once belonged to Gerulf and Anselm?” Saskia asked.

“Maybe we are foolish, but we did find your ax, Brunhilda, and Gerulf. Who knows . . . we might find one of the other horses. Let’s look and ask at the stables,” I said. We walked over with our horses in tow. The man at the stables looked over at our horses and asked if we were trading or selling them.

“Ne . . . we are only asking if you have seen two horses that have markings such as . . .” I glanced over at a horse that looked identical to Anselm’s horse. Saskia saw it as well. We hurried over to the horse and looked at it more closely. We noticed that it limped a bit. Its left hind leg had a bandage around it. Saskia asked the man what was wrong with its leg.

“The man who sold it to me said it was injured during a battle; he wanted very little money for it, so I bought it. I figured it could still be useful as a pet for a child. No one has wanted the poor thing. I may have to dispose of it soon, if no one buys it. I could just give it away. It eats more than it’s worth keeping around. Do you have an eye for it? Perhaps you have a son who would like it?” he offered.

Saskia looked at me with unbelieving eyes and said with joy, “I would love to have this horse! It once belonged to my friend. Now that it’s lame, I know my . . . uh . . . son would love to have it as a pet.”

“Then, it’s yours, to do with as you please,” he said, “especially since it once belonged to your friend.” He smiled and got a rope for the horse, so we could take it with us.

“Thanks!” Saskia said, as she tied Anselm’s horse to hers. I described Gerulf’s horse to the man and asked if he had seen this horse, but the man said that he had not seen it anywhere. He wished me luck in finding it and said good day.

We headed back to the men who escorted us to the village. They had gathered at the entrance to the village, where we said we’d meet at the end of the day. I asked each of them if they had heard or seen anything, but they hadn’t. Saskia showed them the horse that once belonged to Anselm. She thought she would give it to the son of Rochus, who loved horses. He was a very young boy, and couldn’t yet ride a horse by himself, but he would enjoy sitting on its back, with guidance from his father or mother. The horse would be loved for the little time it had left in its life.

I rode with Saskia and Eiriks on either side of me, smiling at the luck we had on this journey. We talked about visiting other villages throughout Middle Earth, on a quest to find Anselm. That would have to be our next inquiry. He must be close, in a nearby village. We eliminated three places where we didn’t find him—the farm belonging to the Sporoi and the two Naharvali villages. I hoped that he wasn’t sold to the Romans as a gladiator, or to fight in their army. That would make it impossible to find him.

He could be anywhere in the Roman Empire. I hadn’t seen it, but I had heard it was vast. I knew that it stretched from the western regions of Middle Earth to the far southern shores of the Black Sea. It had more riches than the Gutthiuda and the other tribes of Germania (Roman name for the area of Germanic tribes). The Roman Empire had more armies and cavalry, as well as great ships that sailed the sea—more than any other group of people in Middle Earth.

Rochus and Evorik thought we should search for Anselm on the way back to the Gepids who had accompanied us to the farm, and then, on the return trip to the mouth of the Wisla River. I thought that was a good idea, but I wanted to leave the Gepids and seek my family to the east. Perhaps I would find new villages to search in the east, where the Venethi (Sporoi) villages were established. There were many more villages than I could count. The number was daunting. We could spend many months, even years, searching for Anselm. Perhaps Eiriks would escort us again, but I knew of no one else. We would need a small band of men to help us. We decided to search for Anselm on the way to find our families and villages.

After a few days’ ride, we returned to the Gepids’ camp. We retold the events that led to our discovery of Gerulf, and Anselm’s horse, along with Anselm’s fate, and Saskia’s ax. They thought that we did well to find all these pieces of information. Anselm’s horse was handed over to Rochus’ son, and he immediately wanted to sit on its back, held by Rochus,. It was a joyous evening of firelight and music, for the Gepids loved to dance and sing.