The night the battle, there were many watchfires. As he walked from the Cimbri, out into darkness, Eodan saw the Roman across the miles as a ring of red. Now the search has ended, he thought; this earth we shall have tomorrow, or be slain.
He thought, while his blood swiftly, I do not my death.
Only the of a moon was up, and the after the sky. He Italy's air as thick. And the ground was where of thousands of folk, their and cattle, had over grain. A in gloom. Suddenly, as a war-dart, Eodan Jutland, Cimberland—great and storm-noisy oaks, a in and the of the Limfjord.
But that was fifteen years ago. His folk, angry with their gods, had since then to the world's edge. And now the Cimbrian must meet for one last time that she-wolf they said Rome. It was unlucky to call up places in your head.
Besides, Eodan, this was good land here. He make it a pastureland of ... yes, he might well take his of Italy on the Raudian plain, the high Alps.
The night was hot. He rested his in the of an arm while he took off his cloak. Under it he the of any Cimbrian warrior; but his shirt was red silk, for him by Hwicca from a of cloth. The and of the North looked across its shimmer. He a around his neck, gold on his arms and a tooled-leather with god-masks. The it a new of on the old iron blade. The Cimbri had from many folk, until their were with wealth. Yet it was only land they sought.
There was not much more air to be the than the camp. And it was less full of noise here: the the wagons, one great of flesh. Eodan Hwicca and again.
A him as he passed. "Hoy, there, Boierik's son, are you wise to go out alone? I would have in the dark, to slice any such that offered itself."
Eodan and said scornfully, "How many miles away would you a Roman, and on tiptoe?"
The laughed. A Cimbrian of common mold, the thousands like him. A big man, with and thews, his skin was white where sun and wind and had not it red, his were under brows. He his length, into a at the of the head; his was braided, and his and arms the marks of tribe, clan, or fancy. He an iron breastplate, a into the shape of a boar's and a painted shield. His were a and a long single-edged sword.
Eodan himself was than most of the tall Cimbri. His were green, set over high in a broad, straight-nosed, square-chinned face. His yellow was cut like else's, but like most of the men he had taken on the Southland fashion of his once or twice a week. His only was on his forehead, the marking him as a son of Boierik, who the people in wandering, and sacrifice. The other old ties, or blood brotherhood, had on the long trek; these wild, were more for or gold or than for the of their grandfathers.
"And besides, Ingwar, there is a until tomorrow," Eodan on. "I that. I and a others with my father to the Roman and spoke with their chief. We where and when to meet for battle. I do not think the Romans are to the crows. They won't attack us beforehand."
Ingwar's thick a moment's in the firelight. "Is it true what I say, that the Teutones and Ambrones were out last year by this same Roman?"
"It is true," said Eodan. "When my father and his to talk with Marius, to tell him we wanted land and would in turn of Rome, my father said he also spoke on of our comrades, those which had gone to enter Italy through the western passes. Marius and said he had already the Teutones and Ambrones their lands, which they would now forever. At this my father angry and they would that when they in Italy. Then Marius said, 'They are already here.' And he had the of the Teutones in chains."
Ingwar and a against trolldom. "Then we are alone," he said.
"So much the more for us, when we Rome and take Italy's acres," answered Eodan gaily.
"But—"
"Ingwar, Ingwar, you are older than I. I had six when we left Cimberland; you were already a man. Must I then tell you of all we have done since? How we through and rivers, over mountains, along the Danube year after year to Shar Dagh itself ... and all the there not us—we their and in their houses and rolled on in spring, their with our children! How we the Romans at Noreia twelve years ago, and again eight and four years ago—besides all the Gauls and Iberians and the Bull how many others that in our way—how we pushed one Roman army us across the Adige, when they would Italy—how this is the they can to against us, and we it three men to one!"
The victories off Eodan's tongue, a river in flood. He of one Roman after the next, like an ox to a Cimbrian wagon, or on a among his legionaries. He and the of Cimberland's men, with victory and the of their dear tall girls. It did not to him—then—how the had for fifteen years, north and south, east and west, from Jutland to the Balkan and to the Belgic plains, from the of Gaul to the of Spain. And for all the and new-caught women, all the men killed and all the gold lifted, the Cimbri had not a home. There had been too many people, too many; you not when the very earth men up into your face.
"Well," said Ingwar. "Well, yes. Yes." He his head. "It's plain to see son you are. His youngest, perhaps, not the baseborn, but still son to Boierik. And that's something. Me, I am only a crofter, or will be when I my of land, but you'll be a king or they call it. So me, old Ingwar that you on his home, and let me my for your to breed, eh?"
"Eh, indeed." Eodan the and on into the camp.
The were up in many rings, the whole a circle together by low of earth and logs. It with folk, there among the wheels. Even from his own height, Eodan not see across that of big men and free-striding girls.
Here a of boys and at a campfire, while an old wife a of stew, children rolled in the dust, dogs and stamped. There a of men about the dice, as the went, all they owned to their very weapons—for tomorrow they would settle with Marius and own Rome herself. An bard, in summer, into a and to the war-song of a hands had already been bloodied. A and a wagons, darkness; her mother her after them in some bitterness, for it was not like the time when she was young—all this had ended the old ways, and no good would come of it. A from the homeland, and ragged, for a out of Gaul, and got a and a from the who owned them both. A man an ax against tomorrow's use; him three friends, empty cups in their hands. Here, there, here, there, it one great for Eodan, and the voices and and iron were like the he had not in fifteen years.
He pushed his way through them all, at those he knew, taking a of offered by one man and a bite of blood from another, but not staying. Out there, alone in the night, he had Hwicca, and it came to him that the night was not so long after all.
His own near his father's, which were close to the god-cars. In two of these the who the fire, took and for luck—ugh, they looked like empty leather sacks, and it was said they through the air. But another the Cimbrian treasures, and a earth-god and the oath-ring. Eodan and Hwicca had their hands on that ring last year to be wedded. The Bull in the same wagon, but tonight Boierik had ordered it set in an open cart, that all might see it and be heartened. It was a image, in bronze, with that to the stars.
They had far, the Cimbri, and they had much of old and and belongingness. They were not the Cimbri any longer. That was only the of many which had joined their trek. There were other Jutes, from Jutland by the same of wild wet years when no and like knuckle-bones on Midsummer Eve. There were Germans in along the way; Helvetians from the Alps and Basques from the Pyrenees, neighbors to the sky; Celts, in with these who so all nations. They had no gods in common, did they much for any gods; they had no high must be to; they had not a single language.
Red Boierik and the Bull them together. Eodan, with for anything else, his in as he passed the green, of it.
Then he saw his own and his best it. A low fire was burning, and Flavius was above it, with a stick.
"Well," said Eodan, "are you cold? Or afraid?"
The Roman up, slowly and easily as a cat. He only a of a tunic, him one day by his master, but he it like a in the Senate. Men had Eodan not to trust such a thrall—stick a in him, or at least the out, or one day he'll put a knife in your back. Eodan had them. Now and then he would Flavius over with a single open-handed cuff, when the spoke too sharply, but nothing had been needed; and he was more use than a dozen Northern oafs.
"Neither," he said. "I wanted a little more light, to see the better. This may be my last night in it."
"Hoy!" said Eodan. "Speak no unlucky words, or I'll your teeth in."
He no move against the Roman. War or the were one thing; those who not was another, a work. Eodan the on his less often than most. Lately he had Flavius the job, and the Roman had Roman skill at it.
"After all, master, I have meant that tomorrow we will sleep in Vercellae, and a nights in Rome." Flavius smiled, the odd closed-lipped with that Cimbrian men somehow along the nerves but to Cimbrian women. In his mouth the rough, Northern language something else, almost a song.
He was about ten years older than Eodan, not as tall or as of shoulder, but more supple. His skin was nearly as fair, though his black; his was narrow, smooth, with wide red lips, but his jutted, and his nose was beauty; his rust-colored had a woman might envy. Four years as a Cimbrian had put in his hands, but did not to have his or his tongue.
Eodan gave him a hard stare. "If I were you, not to the wheel tonight and my close by, I'd from here. You'd have a of now than you had before."
"Not a good chance," said Flavius. "Tomorrow you will win and I would be or killed if caught. Or the Romans will win and I shall be released. I can wait. My are older than yours—you are a nation of children, but we are in waiting."
"Which makes you less trouble to me!" laughed the Cimbrian. "You can be my overseer, when I my garth. I'll you a Roman wife."
"I told you I have one. Such as she is." Flavius delicately. Eodan bristled. It meant nothing for Flavius to with women—any man would do that if no were to be had. The ugly, about boys be overlooked. But a man's wife was his wife, to him in the of proud folk. Even if he did not on with her, he was less than a man for speaking her name others.
Well—
"What is the Roman consul's name?" on Flavius. "Not Catulus, you at the Adige, but the new one they say has been command."
"Marius."
"Ah, so. Gaius Marius, I am sure. I have met him. A plebeian, a demagogue, a self-righteous and always angry who actually of no Greek ... indeed. His one is that he is a of a soldier."
Flavius had his in Latin. The Cimbric, the speech of barbarians, not have been used to say it. Eodan him without much trouble; he had had Flavius teach him Latin for use, looking to the day when he with many Italian underlings.
Eodan said, "In my you will my of armor. Polish the and breastplate. I would look my best tomorrow." He paused at the wagon. "And do not close to here."
Flavius chuckled. "Ah—I see what you have in mind. You are to be envied. I know all Aristotle's of beauty, but you sleep with them!"
Eodan at him, not very angrily. The Roman laughed, and off into darkness. Eodan after him for a little, then him up a whistling.
It was the same air Gnaeus Valerius Flavius had been at Arausio in Gaul, to his captives. That was after the Cimbri had two armies, while Boierik was all the and to the river god. Ha, but the hag-wagon had of blood! Eodan had been a little sickened, as one man after another to be hanged, speared, cut open and out—the river had been with the dead. He had Flavius singing. He did not know Latin then, but he had from the of (the Romans had laughed, waiting to be murdered!) that the were bawdy. On an he had Flavius from the river for a cow and calf. Later he had learned that he now owned a Roman of the class, in Athens, of rich and tall ambitions, in the army as every Roman must.
Eodan up two steps and the in his doorway. This was a chief's home, by four of oxen, and against the rain.
"What is that?" The low woman-voice was taut. He her move in the dark body, among his weapons.
"I," he said. "Only I."
"Oh—" Hwicca to the door. The light out her face—broad, snub-nosed, a little freckled, the mouth wide and soft, the like heavens. Her yellow so past the that he see her body.
"Oh, Eodan, I was afraid."
Her hands cold, his. "Of a Romans?" he asked.
"Of what to you tomorrow," she whispered. "And to Othrik.... I you would not come at all tonight."
His arm under the mane, across her back, and he her with a he had had for other women. It was not only that she was his wife and had his son. Surely it was not that she also came of a high Cimbrian house. But when he saw her it was like a him, a Jutland in years when the Maiden under hawthorns; and he that being a man was more than war-readiness.
"I out to look at things," he told her, "and spoke with some men and with Flavius."
"So.... I asleep, waiting. I did not hear. Flavius sang me a song to make me sleep when I not ... he had me laugh, too." Hwicca smiled. "He promised to me some of these flowers they have—roses, he calls them—"
"That is of Flavius!" Eodan. May the wind off with that Roman, he thought, the way he all women. I come and the thing I from my wife is how Flavius is.
Hwicca her head. "Do you know," she murmured, "I think you are jealous? As if you had any reason!"
She withdrew. He followed, taking off his in the black, space. He Hwicca go to Othrik, the small, milky wonder who would one day in his high seat, and a skin over the curled-up form. He waited on their own straw. Presently her arms him.
