The Wolves of the North Read Online Free PDF

Castricius had been away in Albania. The gods knew what had happened there, but he had returned altered. There had always been something about him, something secretive and dangerous. Some undisclosed crime had condemned him to the mines in his youth. Against the odds, he had survived, somehow in the face of the law joined the legions, and since risen to equestrian status and high command. He had always joked that the daemons of death were scared of him, that a good daemon watched over him. But now there was a repetition and an earnestness to these claims that was unsettling, that nodded towards madness.
    A tall Goth, taller even than Ballista, walked out. He had long hair, and the muscles of his arms were hooped with finely wrought gold torques.
    ‘I am Peregrim, son of Ursio.’ He spoke the language ofGermania. ‘If you are minded, the King of the Urugundi would talk to you now.’
    It was dark inside the
Bouleuterion
. As his sight grew accustomed to it, Calgacus saw it was roughly square, stone benches running up into the gloom on the other three sides. It reminded him of the council house at Priene. But here there were not just a few Greeks in tunics. The benches were packed with armed Gothic warriors.
    Halfway up the opposite side, the benches had been cut away. A large dark-wood throne sat there, two ravens carved on the back. On it sat Hisarna, son of Aoric, King of the Urugundi. He was a heavyset man, broad shouldered, in middle age. Across his knees rested a drawn sword; his father’s famous blade,
Iron
. The king’s name – Hisarna – meant the Iron One. He was a man to be reckoned with, this Woden-born ruler, as his father had been before him. Thirty years ago, the Urugundi had been no more than a
comitatus
of a dozen or so men who had wandered down from the north, practising brigandage and selling their swords for hire on the shores of Lake Maeotis and the banks of the Tanais. Led by Aoric then Hisarna, they had fought, schemed, negotiated and slaughtered their way to become one of the major groups in the loose Gothic confederation.
    ‘Dernhelm, son of Isangrim of the Angles, why are you here?’ Hisarna spoke in the language of the north. His voice was surprisingly gentle, melodious.
    Ballista replied in Greek. ‘I am here as Marcus Clodius Ballista, envoy of the
autokrator
Publius Licinius Egnatius Gallienus
Sebastos
. My
kyrios
has charged me with ransoming prisoners from the Urugundi and the Heruli.’
    Hisarna smiled, and continued in Germanic. ‘A thankless task in both parts. The Urugundi hold no prisoners from the empire. When my nephew Peregrim returned from the Aegean last year,outside Byzantium he allowed the official the Romans call the Procurator of the Hellespontine Provinces to ransom all those he had taken. Those Greeks and Romans who lived in Tanais now are my subjects by right of conquest.’
    Ballista said nothing.
    ‘As for the Heruli, I wish you well trying to reason with Naulobates and his long-headed warriors.’
    From the ranks of the Goths came a deep hooming sound of amusement.
    Ballista switched to Germanic and spoke politely. ‘Then I would ask your permission to cross your lands, and try my luck with the Heruli.’
    ‘It shall be as you wish,’ Hisarna said. ‘It may be fortunate for you that you are a guest in my hall. There are men here known to you.’
    Some Gothic warriors at Hisarna’s right hand stood. Calgacus saw both Ballista and Maximus stiffen. In the poor light, Calgacus did not recognize them.
    Hisarna did not take his gaze from Ballista. ‘Videric, son of Fritigern of the Borani, also is my guest. No bloodfeud will be played out in my hall.’
    Calgacus found he was gripping the hilt of his sword. Some years before, Ballista had killed the entire crew of a Borani longship. They would not surrender, so he killed them – shot them down with artillery from a distance, then, when they were past resistance, used the ram of a
trireme
to finish them