Free Adalwulf: The Two Swords (Tales of Germania Book 1) by Alaric Longward Page B

heard them in the morning. They sent instructions—”
    “That is terrible,’ Gisil said, pushing past the men. “Damn. We have to protect it. Hide it. Maybe get it to him.”
    “You need … it was the vitka, Bark, who decreed this “no weapons in tonight’s feast” at the Meadows,” the balding man said, puzzled. “They demanded all the mighty weapons be left at home. It’s unprecedented, but the vitka said men who carry malice and tools of death near the place shall be cursed by Donor, and if the god has send him a sight, who are you to take it to Hulderic? You must not touch it.“
    “Donor is a bloody god,” Gisil said with a suffering voice, “a gentle father, a fine husband, but he does not care for men’s swords … Bark is taking coin from Bero. Where is the sword? Quick now.”
    “Who is this man?’ the golden youth asked, stepping before me and squinting up. “Looks half starved, and perhaps a bit desperate.”
    She pushed him aside. “This is Adalwulf. He’ll serve Hulderic one day, Cerunnos. Your father’s guest will have his service, so give him the courtesy of your respect,” Gisil said. I bowed in my saddle at the beautiful young man. Cerunnos was son of Teutorigos, who nodded back stiffly, and stepped aside. Gisil smiled gratefully, and pulled the balding man around. “Gunter. Where-is-the-sword”’ she said very softly. “Now, please.”
    “Hulderic left it on his seat,” the man answered. “Look, what’s this all about? I’m getting worried, and when I get worried, I get belly aches. I don’t want to rush to the bushes like some wet eared pup. Please tell me what’s going on?”
    She was tearing at the door. “Bero’s sending men to steal the blade. Or Leuthard is, and they are not Marcomanni. They are up to no good when they get here. They’ll take it, and they are planning for something evil with our lord’s sword.”
    “Surely Bero knows we would guard it?” another man said.
    The blacksmith spat, so far silent. “Yes, he would,” he said ominously. “He might not be able to kill his brother, but he means to kill us all,” he finished. Men began to cast long looks at the shadows around the hall, a man rushed inside, another around the hall to make sure nobody was sneaking up on us.
    ‘What, exactly , do you think they are sending here?’ Gunter asked, fondling his spear.
    “Mercenaries. Dozens,” I told him grimly.
    He muttered and yelled inside. “Get a slave here! Two! Someone who can ride like the wind!” he added to a younger warrior who popped his head out. Then he fixed an eye on me. “What do you want with us, anyway? Will you help? Why?”
    Gisil sighed. “I had a sight—”
    I patted her hand, and Cerunnos and Gunter both rolled their eyes as I spoke. “I heard them speaking. There was Leuthard chatting with some mercenaries,” I told them, carefully, since I felt lost in the woods. It was not an easy thing being the gods’ chosen champion, and I felt reluctant for Gisil to share that bit of news. Instead, I tried to sound helpful. “They are a savage looking lot. They tried to kill me in a dark room by the harbor, and so I’m here to help your lord.”
    “Mighty gracious,” Gunter said. He nodded at me. “Guess we cannot spit on any offer of help, even by a vagabond.” He turned to receive two bewildered slaves, who were rushing like feral dogs were chasing them. “Get two horses. The fastest ones. Ride for the Flowery Meadows, and get Lord Hulderic and Teutorigos here, with all their oathsmen. Tell him there is trouble, and they shouldn’t dawdle around.”
    The slaves were shaking their heads, older men both.
    ‘They don’t speak Germani?” Gunter despaired at Cerunnos, who shrugged.
    The golden-belted youth pulled at his very long moustaches. “They are both stupid. Afraid and dumb as mules.”
    “You go,” Gisil said, as she got ready to enter the hall. “Get your father. I think you should.”
    Gunter shook his head.