Spring came slowly to the mountains. But come it did, removing whatever small margin of safety they had been given by the cold. And reluctant as they were to leave those sheltering walls, where life and love had been restored to them, they must both accept the hard truth.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “But with the melting snows we risk danger from both north and south. The Vandals could come again, as plunder grows scarce in the valleys they have razed. Or other tribes could descend from the North, faced with the same pressures for land and resources. Cunning as your sister’s husband was, if I found this place, so could others. But you know the realities; I will not speak to you as a child.”

“It’s not that, Krieg. I know we have to leave, though this cabin has become dear to me. It’s just that you spoke of something that’s been much on my mind of late. Surely we must search for my sister, and take her with us?”

“Yes, Lana. I had not forgotten her, though between my wound, and the danger of straying far from here, I have not been able to act on the thought. Yes, we will look for her. It will even be on our way.”

“You still mean to go north, and seek sanctuary among the Visigoths?” Even the name reawakened her insecurity.

“Yes, though I read the doubt in your words. Please believe me. I have no intention of trying to find the lords that I once knew, and convincing them to liberate Spain. If I do find a friend, I will do no more than give what news I have, and ask for news in return: where we may find peace, and a small homestead away from armed conflict.”

“But might not the news you carry, of a beautiful land ravaged, serve the same end? Might a Visigoth Lord not be roused all the same?”

“I can’t deny that it could happen. But I cannot hold my tongue to protect the Vandals, any more than I can sacrifice my remaining years in trying to punish them. Surely you can see that. Haven’t I earned that much of your trust?”

At this Lana colored, and hung her head. Krieg released a breath, and brought her to him.
“I know. The temptation will always be there for me. Some wives must fear the lure of other women, to take their husbands from them. With me it is another siren’s call: destiny, justice, vindication. But I will deny those whisperings so long as you remain beside me, a constant reminder of all I stand to lose. And of course,” he said, reaching down to stroke the swell of her abdomen. “I haven’t forgotten the little one. How could I?”

They knew each other well enough to avoid the now familiar pitfalls that exist in any marriage, however strong the bond, or constant the heart. For husbands and wives remain, above all, human beings, made up of both virtue and vice, steady love and fickle desire. Lana returned to her packing, as Krieg went out to check on the horses. They had discussed all these things before, and the day had come for their departure.

The air was cool and fresh, the wind combed gently by needles of pine which yet remained green, and had escaped their winter blanket of white. The sun shone pale in a deep blue sky, touched feather-white with cirrus. The two rode easily down a slight and winding path of frosted earth and fallen needles, between shallow banks of crusted and melting snow.

Lana rode on Krieg’s trusted grey, the man himself on the unruly Vandal horse. But even this faithless creature seemed to have grown tame under his steady influence, though he never left it untethered, or walked blindly before or behind it. So it was that they worked their way first westward, then descended as the afternoon grew long into a more or less flat swath of stone-pocked ground between steep shoulders, and turned to the North.

“We’ll have to watch closely both ahead and behind,” he told her. “If memory serves, this ravine leads to the same high pass my people used when first they descended into this country. You’re sure it is the way to your old home?”

“Yes,” she said defensively. “It was not only my home, but that of my father before me. I have not forgotten the place of my birth.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been told for so long that women know nothing of the world, sometimes I half believe it. But only half.” They rode on. After a time he said to her. “We will have to make camp for the night somewhere among the heights to either side. Will you help me search for a place that is safe and sheltered?”

And while she wearily accepted the charge, knowing he was trying to include, and therefore hearten her, at that moment all she could feel was a fatigue that bordered on despair. For she had not yet reached the middle term of her pregnancy, when a woman’s spirits and energy return. Now there was only the endless exhaustion of body and mind, which no amount of sleep could allay.

But as they came to a place where the high wall on their left was broken by a similar, if narrower and less tractable ravine, she saw in Krieg’s face a sudden, harrowing concern. Checking his horse at the meeting of ways he dismounted, and began to examine the thaw-softened ground. Even in her shadowed darkness, Lana could see the hoof-prints.

“Which way do they lead?” she asked, looking around her in alarm.

He did not answer at once but continued to study the prints, moving up and down both paths, stooping to touch their outlines with his fingers. “I would say in two directions. . .that a small band of horsemen rode up from the west, turned here to the north, then returned along the way they had come.”

“How long ago?”

“Not long enough. Two or three hours, perhaps less.”

“Should we take cover?” she asked anxiously.

“Yes, but not here.” And in a burst of fierce temper she had not known in him he turned on the horse, which in its surly and absent way had tried to jerk the reins from his hand, and struck it savagely across the mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he said to her, as the beast shook its head and gave voice to its pain and confusion. “There is no cover for some miles to the south, and we may be seen..... To the north then, and as soon as may be, up some steep path in the eastern rise where we can lead the horses. Help me,” he said. And in his voice there was no hint of patronization.

They trotted briskly north, seeking shelter from ravening eyes.

Several miles further on, Krieg at last found what he was looking for, enough of a break in the eastern wall, angling and earthen, to lead their horses up, and away from the naked pass. By then it was nearly dark, and the climb long and difficult. But at the last, breathing hard, only able to guess at shapes more than a few feet away, Krieg tied his horse to a ragged pine, its lower branches blighted and bare, and turned back to help the woman to dismount.

At once sweating and cold, his heart pounding pain to his head, hip and side at once, legs cramping hard, and more than this, the sudden return to doubt and danger, all served to color his thoughts black and sullen brown.

Lana knew enough from his silence not to ask what he was feeling. Her own uneasiness and fatigue, the way he had struck the horse in his rage, and the feeling now that he was pushing her away..... Her mind turned again to their dark passage through the ravaged lowlands to the sea. And this in turn brought her back to those disquieting thoughts of the beacon tower, and his ultimate despair. Was he, after all, the best man to love and care for her . . .and her unborn child? She shuddered involuntarily.

As both recovered their breath and their bearings, the intensity of these feelings diminished, though the underlying theme of danger and disquiet remained. This, and the cold exposure that comes with nightfall in high places.

“Are you all right?” he said to her.

“A little dizzy. Do you want me to help you construct a shelter?”

“No. Rest.” And he took down the large bundle of furs, ropes and stakes from behind the rough saddle of the grey, letting it fall with a dull thud against the earth, still rippled with stone from the cliff just a few yards away. Then he lifted and carried it a short distance further in, where the pines began to grow thicker, and let it fall once more.

He strung a rope between two of them, and heavily laid the patchwork of furs across it. With the back of the ax he then drove stakes at an angle into the unyielding earth, and tied the thongs at the edges about them, completing the rude tent.

After a few heavy breaths, he returned to the less reliable beast and took down more carefully the second large bundle, containing articles of food, clothing and additional tools, also wrapped in heavy furs. This he set beyond the entrance of the tent, and worked to loose its leathern binds.

Opening it, with a raking motion of his large hand he scattered its contents, then took and laid the furs within the enclosure, to serve as cushion and covering both.

“Come, Lana,” he said, backing out again. “Lay yourself down. I’ll light a fire if you feel you need it. Otherwise we will eat and drink, and sleep as we may.”

The woman came forward tentatively, placed one hand just inside the crown of the structure, then bent down and knelt to enter. She said nothing as to a fire, and tried to lie down on her side among the furs. But a sharp stone goaded her ribs, and made her rise again with a groan. The man sighed, and shook his head.

“I will cut boughs to place beneath you, and light a hidden fire to cook, and to warm stones for sleeping. Forgive me. This is the way I have lived, but I should not ask it of you in your condition.” At the drear sound of his voice she crawled quickly, and put her arms about his neck and squeezed him tightly.

“It’s all right,” he said, righting himself as he took down her arms. “We’ve both had a shock. But this is not a bad place to pass the night, and perhaps in the daylight things will not look so grim.”

When Krieg had done what he promised, and the fire was slowly burning itself out, and they lay on their backs beneath the furs, looking up and out at a bare patch of sky behind, she turned toward him and began to fondle his abdomen. But he softly lifted away the hand and brought it to his lips and kissed it and said to her. “I must save my strength.” She snuggled closer and after a time he could feel her tears against his breast as she said quietly.

“What will happen to us?”

“We will go North, as safely and surely as we may, and search for some better place to start our new family.”

“Must we really leave Spain? I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, that the home you knew is no longer safe for us, and the world you knew is gone. I’m afraid that’s just the way of it, and not some special punishment..... Try to rest, love, and not to grasp too hard at what we cannot know: the reason for what has gone behind, and what is yet to come. Believe only that men and women have been facing such trials long before you and I, and will continue to do so long after we are gone.”

“But do you love me?” she said.

“But I do love you, Herschen. Sleep now.” And after a weary, worried time, she did.

Eighteen

The morning came cold and damp. As she woke slowly and opened her eyes, Lana instinctively put out her hand to the place where Krieg had slept. He was not there. She sat up quickly, threw off the heavy fur coverings, then crawled and rose and moved to the edge of the precipice. Looking down into the morass, her eyes were defied by a clinging fog which seemed to rise from the earth itself, and shrouded the steep defile as murky waters in a stream. She thought to cry out for him, but dared not. Already he was angry with her, and to expose them to further danger through a lack of faith and trust.....

Again she felt the rush of dizzying sickness, turned suddenly from the adrenaline fear of the cliff. Then fell to her knees, hands splayed upon the rocky ground, and in a paroxysm of misery, vomited.

So it was that Krieg found her, returning weary and unsure from his reconnaissance, which had begun before the dawn, and lasted these three hours. He said not a word, but came and went down on one knee beside her and gently rubbed her back. At the touch of his large, paternal hand she turned into his arms, and hid her face and wept.

“Easy now,” he said to her. “I had to scout our way, and search for fresh signs. Come and rinse your mouth, and lathe your face with water. Your stomach will feel better once you’ve eaten something.” She nodded wordlessly and dried her eyes with the back of her sleeve and rose and returned to their small camp. When she had rinsed her mouth, washed her face and urinated, she sat on a stone chewing slowly at a crust of bread and watched him dismantle their camp, scatter and cover the ashes, repack their belongings and reload the horses.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to walk them down again,” he said, as he helped her to rise.

“What did you find?” she asked cautiously.
“Nothing new. The same tracks leading north, then returning south again. While I can’t be sure, they seem to be of roughly the same number, perhaps twelve or twenty. The fog will mask our movements, but bring instead the danger of coming suddenly upon strangers, or of their coming suddenly upon us. But such is our road, and I could find no better.”

She nodded weakly. They descended.
Arriving again at the base of the ravine, the two remounted and rode slowly northward. The cloud wrack above, and therefore the mists below, cleared but little and slowly. Krieg bid her keep silent, and strained his ears for any sound of riders ahead or behind, and his eyes for the all too infrequent breaks in the stone margins to either side. Their avenues of escape were few and far between.

Silently they went, until they came upon a silence greater still. An oddly shaped object, waist high and squat, first appeared as a bulge of darker grey out of the mists before them. Lana could make no sense of it. But Krieg checked his horse, and his face was grim. The woman did the same. She thought she could make out one pale limb, and then another. Were they legs? The angle seemed unnatural, twisted. . .and where was the upper body? Then she saw the stripes of dried blood, and at the joining of the two a bloody pulp.....

By this time Krieg had dismounted, and this alone saved their unborn child. As he came forward with a rush she lost consciousness and sloughed forward and to one side, as catching her beneath the arms he moved her carefully off the grey. The faithful mount shied but did not bolt, leaving this act of betrayal to the Vandal horse, which carried their food and supplies.

She did not know how long she was unconscious—it seemed but a moment—only that he knelt behind her on the cold ground, supporting her head and back. “Don’t look,” he said. But remembering the gruesome vision she turned, and with a gasp, saw what remained of her sister.

The reason for the oddity of her appearance seemed to derive from an indecision on the part of her captors. A rude cross had been made from pine logs, as if they intended to crucify her, but then had changed their minds. For the stem of the cross had then been halved, the remaining X leaned back and supported at the junction by the top of the severed piece, forming a kind of rack. Her feet were then spiked to the bases of the X, her naked body bent backward across the frame, and her wrists tied to stakes in the ground (there being nothing to nail them to), her neck bound by rope to the supporting timber. Her breasts and vagina had then been cut away with a knife, and she had slowly bled to death. As an afterthought a plank had been propped against her shins, and five words written upon it in blood. Translated from the German: “Spanish whore.” And in a different hand: “She liked it.”

Lana covered her face, screamed, then threw off his hands and tried to go to her. But her limbs would no more obey her than if she had told them to throw herself off a cliff. She staggered to a halt partway, found before her on the ground a bloody lump of flesh and pubic hair, screamed again, rose and fell backward, and pushed away with hands and legs until she again found his arms, and this time did not fight, but scrambled into the protective cave they formed as if fleeing from a ravening bear. And wept hysterically.

So it was that Thule, son of Theodoric, came upon them, looming up out of the fog with a company of horsemen behind. His mount then stopped of its own accord, as the ghastly face of the corpse stared up at him, eyes wide with horror. A man of fierce courage and many battles, still he was sickened by that grizzly apparition of fear and hate, and outraged as he saw a tall warrior beyond it rise slowly and draw his sword, a second woman at his feet.

“Vandal!” he cried, whipping out his own blade and dismounting swiftly, meaning to kill the man himself in single combat. “What is the meaning of this? You slay women, and in mockery of our Lord! Your life is forfeit!” The men with him rode quickly forward in two lines around the corpse, encircling them, and leaving Krieg no escape.

But as Thule moved sullenly toward his foe, he saw two things which arrested his anger, for the moment at least. First, that the woman at his feet was unhurt, and clung to him as for protection.

Then he saw the cross, burned into his forehead. Krieg, looking back at him, likewise saw a cross, forged into the haft of the Visigoth’s sword. And as the others drew their blades, he found on each the same device.

“The cross on your forehead,” said Thule sternly. “Why is it there?

And I warn you, do not lie to me!”

Krieg did not answer immediately, staring instead at the face of the man before him, trying to remember. He was of middle age and average height, though powerfully built—the muscles of his arms rippled hard and thick. His countenance, too, was stone hard. It showed no sign of weakness or hesitation, but on the contrary, a natural authority which may have come from high birth, but meant little without the leadership qualities he also, clearly possessed. His hair and beard were brown, relatively short, and he wore a breastplate of burnished bronze. Was it. . .yes, a Roman breastplate, taken perhaps at the conquest of Rome. A kinsman of Alaric? That could be good or bad, depending on the tribe and the family. While Alaric himself was a fool, his half-brother Ataulf was not….. The man’s eyes were narrowed in rage, but gleamed through their fighting scowl in a way that was somehow familiar.

“I wore a metal cross about my neck,” Krieg answered slowly. “Not unlike those you bear upon your swords. It was given to me by a Christian family who rescued me, body and soul, in the mountains of northern Italy. A Visigoth family.”

“I warn you,” began Thule, but at this Krieg’s own anger flared. For he had recognized the face at last, and would not be mocked by a soldier he had known as a youth, and the son of a man he had fought with side-by-side.

“You have warned me once already. I speak on my honor as a Christian.” The Visigoth was only momentarily abashed by the sudden change in his adversary’s tone.

“You claim the one true God as well?”

“Yes. This same cross was taken from me by my own people, the sons of men I once led, but who have now betrayed me. It was heated in the fires of hate, and returned to me thus.” He could not control his rising passion, and instinct told him that he should not. He must show this Lord that he was equally proud, and unafraid. Throwing down the bearskin that hung from his shoulders, he pulled open his tunic to reveal the scars he would carry all the days of his life.

Thule drew a sudden breath. Recovering, he looked again at the living woman, then back to the corpse upon the broken crucifix. “And did these same ‘people’ you once led, perform this. . .blasphemy?”

“Yes, Thule, son of Theodoric, grandson of Alaric. They did.”

“You know me?” asked Thule, unable to mask his astonishment.

“As a younger man, in Rhetia. I knew your father better. I fought for a time with Alaric against the Romans, though the memory…..” He stopped himself.

The Visigoth sheathed his sword, and with his strong arm waved the others off. “You knew my father, the King?”

Krieg felt a catch at his heart. Theodoric was king. Without seeking it, he stood upon the threshold of Visigoth power. For a friendship with the son, himself a high Lord….. The thoughts raced through him.

Only then did he become aware of a pressure about his legs. He took a deep breath, raised Lana to stand beside him, and embraced her.

“I have not forgotten my promise,” he whispered. “Be at peace; these men will not hurt us.” To Thule he said. “I knew Theodoric well, but did not know he had since become King.” He thought to ask if Alaric was dead, checked himself. He had nearly voiced that dislike already, and though Thule had not reacted violently…..

“We must speak of these things at length,” said the Visigoth, realizing now his first impressions had deceived him. “But not here. And we must give the woman proper burial.”

“The marauders may return,” said Krieg calmly, not without a touch of challenge.

“Let them! By God, I’ll teach them to maim and crucify women!” And for the first time in many long and bitter months, Krieg knew that such a confrontation would not result in another Vandal massacre.

“I doubt it not. And I thank you for your help in the Christian burial of my wife-sister. If you would extend your protection to my wife as well, who is with child, I will be in your debt.”

“Your wife? Your wife-sister? There is much here that I do not understand. I accept your thanks, but warn you again not to try my patience too far. We have traveled a long and difficult road to be greeted by such a spectacle. I hold you, for the moment, blameless. But I will understand these things, and then by God I will act.”

“As with your father before you,” said Krieg, “I know you speak the truth.”

Thule looked hard at him, then gave the order to his men.

The sun rose high, above the walls of the broader clearing where the Visigoths had made their camp. It slowly burned away the mists to reveal tents, pavilions, baggage wagons, men, women, children and horses. The riders who first met them had only been a scouting party, led by Thule himself. Had Krieg not already known his high position among them, he would have read it in the deference shown him, the way he walked proudly, but not arrogantly among his people.

Here they numbered close to two thousand fighting horsemen, with perhaps half that number of women, children and servants who had followed in the wagons or on foot. Together they had come seeking new lands, a new life, and freedom from the endless pressures for territory and dominion that were the Visigoth lot in Gaul.
Thule led them to his pavilion, where he commanded Krieg and Lana to sit on a carpet before him. He himself moved to a heavy oaken chair, a throne in all but name, and looked down on them.

A young woman entered—a slave, identified by the iron bracelet she wore—bearing wine in a tall silver pitcher. Krieg’s eyes strayed briefly across her, the first woman, other than his wife, that he had been close to in what seemed an eternity. In that passing glance he noted only her layered, blondish hair, tanned skin and well formed calves. Then turned back to Lana, who, still fearful, watched only the Visigoth Lord.

Another servant brought goblets on a wooden tray, as the men of Thule’s household—an uncle, a cousin, and his own two sons—stood beside their Lord and drank the strong dark wine poured out for them. But as each lowered the cup, their eyes returned immediately to the mysterious pair before them. For this was an age when carelessness was rewarded by death, and few if any strangers were admitted.

“Will you drink with me, Vandal?” asked Thule, rising. At this the slave girl glanced at him in surprise, though she turned away just as quickly. Krieg rose, and took the proffered cup.

“I will,” he replied, then added. “To Theodoric, King, and to his seed.” He drank deeply. Thule made no reply, only drained his own cup, still studying the man intently. Turning toward Lana, Krieg said, “May I ask for some water and wine for my wife, and that she be provided with a chair? She is with child, as I told you, and distraught at the death of her sister.”

“Of course.” And he gestured to the middle aged man-servant. Chairs were brought for both of them.

“Strange tidings,” he said, when both were seated. “A Vandal and yet a Christian. A traveler from the distant Alps, here among the wilds of Spain. A fair woman of that country, if my eyes do not deceive me, for a wife. There is a tale here, I think.” And turning to his younger son he added. “Bring your mother, Thengol, for counsel, and as a comfort to the woman.”

Several minutes later his wife appeared, and herself gave Lana the diluted wine. As the younger woman drank with unsteady hands, Joseppa watched her closely. A woman perhaps in her mid thirties, worn but determined, Krieg noted dark and penetrating eyes, waving black hair touched with grey, and what must once have been a siren’s form, now fading, but still carried with pride and grace. She understood that she was being asked to make a judgment. Krieg recognized this at once. And though nothing more than a glance was exchanged between lord and wife, he seemed to sense that this woman, kind at heart despite the hard life of a people on the move, felt compassion for his wife, and in her silent way, had communicated this to her husband. Lana’s impressions were somewhat different.

“Don’t be afraid,” Thule said to her more gently. “We mean you no harm. Your husband and I must speak as men. That is all.” Krieg nodded gratefully.

“I here name my family,” he continued, indicating his wife, who moved to stand beside him, and the two brothers, so unlike, seventeen and fourteen. “My wife Joseppa, and our sons: Kudric, my firstborn, and Thengol.”

“I am honored,” replied Krieg, as Lana tried to smile, but could not keep the tears from her eyes.

“You should rest,” said Joseppa. “My Lord, may I assign them a tent, and help her to get settled in?”

Thule hesitated, looked hard at the Vandal, then nodded gravely. Things were happening too fast….. Krieg kissed Lana’s forehead reassuringly and the two women departed, Joseppa supporting her with an arm about the small of her back.

“You have brought your families with you,” he said to Thule when they had gone. “Then I must caution you against going further.”

“You think we are not the equal of Vandal dogs?” demanded Thule, his anger returning. “Or that we cannot defend ourselves from those who left their grizzly marker? You are mistaken!” The eyes of his elder son as well, smoldered at the perceived insult.

“Understand,” said Krieg quietly, “that I say this in friendship. I do not doubt the valor of the Visigoths, with whom I have ridden into battle more than once. Nor do I doubt that the men who ride with you could deal severely with the band of marauders who so recently passed this way. I daresay you are a match for any but the largest tribes, were they to come at you singly. But that is not their way, as you must know. You will find their numbers increased many fold, if you continue rashly into Spain. Ten thousand riders could be mustered against you in a matter of days, as they were against the Romans they defeated. And their hearts burn with the twisted fire of hate.”

Thule released a breath, becoming calmer, though his firstborn continued to glare angrily. The Visigoth Lord took his jaw in his hand, rubbed his beard and pondered. Clearly he wished for news, and was not altogether surprised at what he heard.

“How do you come to be here?” he said flatly.

“I am an outcast, as you have seen, and was tortured, as my scars attest. I came to these hills in my torment, seeking a passage north, and aid in a Holy war against them. It was here that I found Lana, whom I name once more as my wife. She was in hiding, along with her sister, Mora. It is she whom we have just buried.”

He paused, not wanting to anger this man, but needing to assert his own position. “I am no threat to your people. I too have been a Lord and leader. I understand your concerns. In my time I was Fighting Marshall of all the Vandals. I fought beside your father against the Huns, for a time with Alaric in Italy. As such, I ask your protection for my wife and unborn child.”

“All right,” said Thule, not yet committing himself. “No more posturing. We speak, for the moment, as equals.”

“Thank you,” said Krieg. “I am in your debt.”

The Visigoth waved this off, needing to face the more important questions at hand. “So. You are a Christian, and a warrior as well. Though I must tell you, it takes some believing that you were once Fighting Marshall. How could such a man be brought so low, to be tortured by men he once led? What made them turn against you?”

“Not only against me,” said Krieg with equal gravity, “but against everything they once believed in.” He sighed wearily. “I do not completely understand it myself. My Faith angered them, they who believe in nothing now but rape and pillage. But that is not the whole of it, either.”

“Speak plainly,” said Thule, far less interested in the philosophy, than the fact of the Vandals in Spain. “You seem to know something of this land, and of the heathen tribes who now control it. Why would they mutilate your wife-sister, and leave her as some kind of warning? For that, surely, was their intention.”

“Atrocity has become habitual with them. They do such things without thinking, and often without reason. But no doubt you are right. They wished to intimidate those who would encroach upon them from the North.”

“Do they think that will cow us?” cried Kudric moving forward, no longer able to contain himself. His father put out an arm to restrain him.

“They may find it has a very different effect,” he said coldly.

“I believe you,” answered Krieg, returning his gaze steadily. “And I am sorely tempted to seek your aid in avenging her death, and those of countless others.….” He breathed deep to subdue his own rising passions, without success. “But as you see, I have the woman, and our child to think of now.”

Thule rubbed his beard thoughtfully, beginning to understand something of the man before him. Though the Vandal was older, they were not dissimilar in this, perhaps in other things as well. “I believe you speak the truth,” he said simply. He called for more wine, sat back in his chair and released a troubled breath.

“We have traveled far in search of wider, freer lands for ourselves and our children. Others would follow if they thought the country fair, the cause just. You warn us of ten thousand riders quickly mustered. It is no small number. But if you have fought beside us as you say, you know that the fighting strength of the Visigoths, when gathered, is many times that number.”

“I know it well. Indeed, it is for that purpose that I first traveled North.”

“You spoke of this journey before. Tell me fully what you mean, and why you thought we would help you.”

Krieg felt his heart beat high, restrained it with difficulty. “I had hoped to lead you to the land you seek, and against an enemy that is beyond all forgiveness. To fight beside you as I fought beside your fathers of old, and drive these wretched curs into the Sea.....” He tried to hold it in, but like the prophets before him, the truth burned in his throat.

“You find the corpse grizzly? It is but one of fifty-thousand. The Vandals are a curse upon Spain, an adder in the womb of a beautiful and fertile land which, if nothing changes, will soon be ravaged beyond all healing. They are a disease which must be purged, a Plague that can only be cleansed by fire. They deserve death, and worse than death: to burn forever in the Hell prepared for them!” Krieg stepped back and closed his eyes, overcome with bitterness and shame.

“How do you know me?” asked Thule evenly, still trying to fathom the mystery of the man. “You speak of fighting beside my father, but I would have some proof of this before going further.”

“Yes, I fought beside Theodoric, most memorably at the battle of the Danube Flood. For there I cut down the Hun chieftain, as your father slew those who then encircled me. For that alone I owe him a Debt of Honor. I had been reckless, and would have been slain….. And you were there as well, as fierce and full of fire as the son who now stands beside you. You rode in our wake, summoned others, and came our aid just in time. Does the name Krieg mean nothing to you?”
Thule’s eyes widened with astonishment. “You are Krieg? The fearsome Marshall of all the Vandals?”

“Yes!” cried the German, no longer able to deny himself. “I rode beside Theodoric in the Charge from Tooth Hills, where together we broke upon the Huns like the very wrath of God! Hard they fought, and harder we slew them! Think you that such days, such evils are past? Look with your eyes. What they have done to my wife-sister they would do to your women, your children, are doing this moment to the strong and fair women of Spain. Look at my wife! Do you think she is alone in her beauty and her need? Must thousands like her meet the same end? Are we cowards to stand by and do nothing? Or are we proud Christian warriors in a just and Holy Cause?” And stepping beyond the open side of the pavilion, his eyes looked to the Heavens in torment, his arms held behind him as if bound by chains to the uncaring Earth.

“Dear God, I cannot turn from this fight! I love the woman you have given me, as I will bless and keep her child. But how can I turn my back and do nothing in the face of this Horror, and the evil that my people have become?” And his eyes shone with unshed tears.

Thule waited, quietly stunned. Then rose slowly and moved to stand beside him, signaling the others to remain behind.

“In one thing at least you have not changed, Krieg. You still stir the German blood. If you did not know it already, I will tell you now. Well do I remember the Danube Flood, for it was my first battle, and to this day, the most harrowing. And well do I remember the Charge from Tooth Hills, perhaps the finest moment of all the Gothic Alliance. We were outnumbered, overmatched, our hearts failing. Now that I have seen you unmasked, I know it is you who would not let us falter. You led that momentous charge, outstripping us all, and at a single blow separating the Hun chieftain from his foul, pagan head. It struck a fear into their hardened hearts that naught else could have done, and tore away my own, near fatal hesitation.....

“We must tell this to Theodoric,” he concluded, “and any others who will listen. Our lands in Gaul grow narrow, even as our numbers increase. While you do not name him in the deeds of the people who have betrayed you, betrayed themselves, too clearly do I see the hand of Gaiseric in the twisted crucifixion, and the writing on the plank. His name is bile in my throat, for reasons that run too deep to speak of here. I have my own score to settle with him: the Faithless One, the Mutilator, the Betrayer of all trust.”

The Vandal lowered his head, unable to speak.

“Look at me, Krieg.” He did, though reluctantly. “I understand your hatred, for it is mine as well. But while I am, like my son, a passionate man, I am not blind or incautious. Ten years ago, perhaps, I would have charged down into the lowlands, openly engaging the first enemy I saw. But I am a husband and father too, as you see, and the emissary of my people. I have not come here rashly, or without the knowledge and consent of my father. I would have your aid, now that I know you. But in this you need not serve me as a warrior, if your heart and your duty lie elsewhere.”

Krieg regarded him, his emotions a whirlwind of gratitude, hope and fear—not for himself, but for his young family. And for his soul.

“But I will need a scout,” Thule continued, “and a counselor of war when the time comes, one who knows the enemy well. I can think of none better.” And he offered Krieg his forearm.

Krieg clasped it firmly, and was clasped in return. “Thank you, Thule, First Lord, and Heir of the Visigoth Crown. You are the General I sought, but despaired of ever finding.”

Thule nodded, clapped him on the shoulder. “Go to your wife now, and be at peace. My men and I have much to discuss.”

“Thank you,” said Krieg, his throat tightening with emotion.

“For what? We are both Germans, Christian soldiers, and our end is the same.”

“Yes. But I am grateful. . .for understanding the weight of grief and responsibility that this has been to me. I am a man torn in two. Perhaps now, at last, I may find redemption.”

Thule nodded his understanding as Krieg turned away, drained of all emotion, and left the pavilion.

Twenty

When Krieg had gone, Thule spoke long and seriously with Euric—his uncle, and younger brother of the King. Then called his captains to him. He spoke firmly, with all the strength and authority the situation called for, as Euric looked on in silent support. For they were closer, in some ways, than Thule and his own father.

“I’ve summoned you here because all is not as we might have hoped. The land ahead is occupied, and more than this, by the fierce and murderous Vandals. Some of you saw the warning they left us, others have heard of it. But we are proud Visigoth warriors, not cowering Romans or faithless Alans, and we will not be turned back.” Various murmurs of anger and assent.

“A fair land, a true home must be fought for, and brave heart does not seek the easy road. If our journey is met with danger and toil, then greater is our glory in victory! Let us vow to do the deed well, that our people will prosper, and our names be remembered in song. Let it be known that even in the darkest times there is Light, Hope, and Courage. In Christ’s name.”

“In Christ’s name!” cried the others. As in his name the noblest and most heinous deeds of a continent have be done for two thousand years.

“When do we attack?” asked Dorlas—a converted Frank, and the most aggressive of his captains.

“We don’t,” replied Thule calmly.

“But you speak as if we are going to war.”

“I said we must fight, but not against a foe many times our number.”

“I do not fear the Vandals,” said Dorlas impatiently.

“Have I said that you do?” And he turned to his uncle, a lean, white-haired man of fifty with a close-cropped beard, and a deep scar from temple to chin. Like Theodoric he was a man of many campaigns, weathered but hale. Unlike his brother he was even-handed, and did not seek power. He spoke.

“The Vandals of northern Spain outnumber us, at present, five to one. They are master horsemen, and ruthless conquerors. But they are rash, and therefor weak in the long run—men who slaughter needlessly, burn and trample the very earth beneath their feet. If the marauding tribes follow their usual pattern, they may well begin to migrate south and west, now that Spring is upon us. But we must not count on this. We will engage them if necessary, but not until reinforcements have arrived. We must confront this enemy with an overwhelming force, and give them no hope of withstanding us.”

“Then are we to sit here and do nothing?” demanded Dorlas.

“Of course not,” said Thule. He would have liked to say more, but this man and his Frank riders had proven themselves many times in battle. They were needed. “For now we must not reveal ourselves, but build a mountain fortress, in case we are discovered. Meanwhile we will send a mounted company to the King, for counsel, and the reinforcements we need. You know there are many who would follow us, if the land and its women are fair. The latter we have seen already, and the first we will see soon enough. We are but the vanguard. Remember that.”

“But surely we must answer the barbarity of the mock crucifixion?” said Kudric—not from any religious fervor, but because it was what he wanted to do.

“In time we will. Save your fire for battle, which will come soon enough. First we must build our fortress, then send out scouts in stealth, to study the lay of the land.”

Euric nodded in assent, and Thule went on. “We must now decide upon the force that is to return to Theodoric with news, and the call to arms. It will be a long and difficult road, with far fewer of us to defend ourselves. Peril may await in many forms.”

“Then my riders must be among them,” insisted Dorlas. “We have left many of our people behind to journey here—my family among them—and I am concerned for their safety. We must see to their well-being, and lay plans for them to join us. Also, those Franks who have joined forces with the Visigoths, would do our part in winning this new land.”

Which was, of course, what Thule and his uncle had wanted. Those who remained to guard the mountain keep must be men of patience and discipline, not easily goaded to rash deeds. Conversely, any warriors they sent on the long journey must be strong, dauntless and, frankly, without the imagination to question what was in fact a step backward.

“I too will go,” said Kudric in his blunt, rebellious way. “I would not be left behind when great deeds are at hand.” This, Thule had not planned.

“Valorous deeds are needed here as well,” he said solemnly. “Those who remain may be discovered, and assailed in force. They will need a strong Captain. And someone must look after your mother and sister.”

“But you are going,” said his son, more a statement than a question.

“Yes, because my father the King has entrusted me with this expedition, and I alone will know what to say to him.”

“And since you must leave a strong force behind to defend the families, those who ride with you will be few.” Again a statement, but one which his father could not deny. “You need fighting men, and brave. I will go with you.”

Thule felt the anger rise inside him. Such filial demands should not be voiced in public. But as he looked at his son, and saw the angry determination in his eyes….. Perhaps it was for the best after all. Kudric was seventeen, his heir, and must make a name for himself as he had done. And this could only be accomplished through battle and victory.

“All right,” he said at last. “We send two hundred men north: Dorlas and his riders, along with an equal number of my own. Also ten hand-picked scouts. In this I would have Krieg with us as well.”

“You trust him?” asked Kudric incredulously.

“Do not question my judgment!” cried Thule, as he felt the color rise in his face. But he knew he must remain calm and persuasive before the others. “And if he is a spy, better to have him with us, than to allow him to come and go from these mountains, so close to our enemies.” His uncle nodded sternly. Thule continued.

“Dorlas, make your preparations. Euric commands while I am gone. He stands in my place, and will be obeyed in all things.”

His captains nodded in assent. For Euric was no mere figurehead, but the brother of the King. He would wear the crown himself someday, if Thule faltered or was slain.

“All right, let us make ready. We set out in five days’ time. And let those who remain behind feel no dishonor.” This with a melancholy glance at Thengol, his younger son. “Toil and danger await you as well. We must return to find our people safe within an unassailable fortress, and with a thorough knowledge of the enemy, the land ahead….. This counsel is ended.” And his captains dispersed.

“Thengol,” said Thule more gently, when all but his own family had gone. For he had seen the anguish in his son’s face, and guessed at the shame and self-doubt that lay behind it. “I know you would come with us. But someone must remain to protect your mother and sister. That responsibility is yours alone.” A consolation to his pride, at least.

The youth, not so very much more than a boy, nodded ruefully. For though he rebuked himself for it, he knew he would never be the warrior that Kudric was, nor in his heart could he find any such love of danger and violence.

As is often the case with brothers, the eldest had received physical hardihood and an easy self-assertion, seeming to need no one else, while the younger was more thoughtful and withdrawn. To a lesser (and healthier) degree, such had been the case with the King and his brother, though here the former was equally intelligent, and the latter possessed of a different kind of strength and determination.

Will coming manhood work the change in Thengol? wondered Thule, for the thousandth time. He could only hope it would. For in a warlike culture where prominence was determined, first and last, by courage, anything less could lead to division and strife within the tribe, making Thengol, in time, an outcast. He loved his young son, the more so because they were unlike, and not least among his worries was what would happen to the boy in his absence. Joseppa was shrewd, and seemed to have some kind of plan for him. Still…..

He wondered.

Twenty-One

“What are you thinking?” asked Lana. She lay among the bed of furs in the tent which had been given them, in which she had just woken from a long and much needed sleep. Krieg still sat in the chair of wood and woven leather beside her, in the position he had assumed several hours before, his expression drawn in the endless conflict that had marked his adult life. For Nature is not gentle to those who are different, and evolve before their fellows.

“I am a man torn in two,” he replied, seeming almost broken by what he had done, and what he had failed to do. “When will it stop?”

She sat up beside him, and took his hand in hers. She turned it over, stroked his forearm, and gestured for him to come and lie down beside her. He sighed, relented, and gratefully took her warm body in his arms.

“I know,” she said quietly. “But it will be all right now.” “How can it be? I vowed to take you to some safe place, away from strife and danger, and we find ourselves instead at the dawn of yet another war. I am not asked to join in it as a soldier, and that is something. But to be a scout is also perilous.”

She kissed him long and lovingly. “But we are as safe among these people.”

“Safe.” The word echoed in emptiness: a world without order, hope, or any chance of lasting peace.

“More so than we were alone, and in the wilderness.”

“But am I just breaking another promise, forgetting what is most important in life? What about our new family?”

“Forgive me, Krieg, but I don’t think I could have gone much farther as we have. I had not realized how difficult it is to carry a child—at all, let alone like a nomad, or a soldier on the march.”

“I know,” he said ruefully.

“Joseppa is kind to me. She stayed and spoke with me until I fell asleep. She promised we will have all that we need. You believe her don’t you?” At this she hurried on. “Did all go well with Thule?”

“Yes.”

“Then what troubles you?”

“I haven’t betrayed you?”

“No, nor yourself. With danger all around, perhaps this is the best we can hope for right now.”

He laid his head wordlessly against her. Tears pushed at his eyes, and she embraced him. The thing was done.

Then gently they made love, and gently slept.

But life is rarely so simple or so clear. At first light he was called to Thule’s tent. There he received the Lord’s instructions, which were tantamount to command. And when he returned to her his heart was again troubled, his expression pained.

“Krieg?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Thule wants me to go with him back to Gaul, to describe what I have seen, and help convince Theodoric to send more men. He says the King will want a first-hand account of the enemy.”

“Then you must go,” she said.

“You don’t understand. Thule hasn’t come all this way to send the entire expedition home again. Perhaps two hundred riders will go with us, but the rest remain behind. You will remain, with the rest of the women and children. I can’t just leave you like that.”

She was still for a time, then said quietly. “But if you don’t go…..”

“How can I, with you in your condition?”

Again the confusion rose in her. So many thoughts and feelings. But above all else, she had no wish to leave the safety and security she had found, whatever the cost. “It will be all right.” She hesitated. “I’m grateful you no longer want to be a soldier, but a good husband and father. Yet a part of you will always be wild, longing to ride across wide green lands, and charge into battle at need. I don’t want to keep you from that. It’s who you are.”

“A barbarian,” he mused darkly.

“A good man, descended from barbarians.”

“You must know, the Visigoths are not innocent. Their new-found Faith cannot erase hundreds of years of war and pillage.”

“I know. But I have Joseppa’s protection, and through her, Thule’s.” She felt a sudden doubt. “You don’t think….. No one will try to hurt me when you’re gone?”

“No,” he answered seriously. “Thule would have them roasted. But men are still men. You may be approached.”

“Like this?” she said incredulously, putting a hand to her abdomen.

“You will not be pregnant forever, and my own status within the tribe is not yet certain. Much can happen to us on our road.”

She looked at him in confusion. Somehow this was linked to the strange chain of thought….. “What are you telling me?”

“You don’t see it, and for that a part of me has long been grateful.” She took his sleeve in her hand and shook it. “What?”

“Don’t you know how lovely you are? Not a classic beauty perhaps, but a human one, which is, to the wise, far more attractive.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Sirens like Elise are surrounded from first flower by men’s praise and desire, which is a terrible temptation to the woman. It twists her mind, making her feel the that world is hers to command—that she can, she must have everything.”

“So men don’t really want her.”

“On the contrary, they kill each other to have her. But not the wise.”

“Why not?”

“Because life can never live up to their fantastic expectations. Few such women ever find peace or happiness. And what they cannot find for themselves, they cannot give to others.”

But Lana barely heard his explanations. Her heart was whirling. Was she really. . .beautiful? Among powerful and handsome men who would want her? It was a startling thought, and even as he said, a terrible temptation. Strange fantasies of seduction and betrayal raced through her, heightened by the surging hormones. Now, she thought suddenly, it was she who would be in conflict, who would doubt herself and her loyalty.

For she was not immune to the attraction of other men, and had seen the curious, even hungry looks directed at her by the soldiers of the camp.

She had thought at the time it was only because she was Spanish, an example, perhaps, of the women they would find if they continued on. But that did not explain….. Was she wrong, or had Thule’s elder son looked at her with open lust, the younger with a kind of wistful longing? And walking to her tent with Joseppa, more than one warrior had undressed her with his eyes, restrained from open approach, perhaps, only by the presence of Thule’s wife. And she could not help noticing that, even with the wives and servants, the men of the camp still outnumbered the women.

“What are you thinking?” asked Krieg with a pang. He had known this day must come, when they left the romantic isolation of the cabin, to join again the baffling currents of humanity. But he was not without his own insecurity, even jealousy.

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” She clutched him suddenly, almost painfully to her. “Oh Krieg, are you sure I can’t come with you?”

“Yes. We will have to ride swiftly, and travel light. But thank you.”

“For what?”

“For asking, and loving me.”

“I do,” she said, almost in tears. “I do.”

He rocked her gently back and forth, speaking to her, it may be, the words that he himself needed to hear.

“One day at a time,” he said. “One day at a time.”

A short time later, the Visigoth Lord approached their tent. His voice was heard just beyond it, speaking first to a subordinate, then addressing them directly. “Krieg. Will you come out?”

As the Vandal lifted the tent-flap and emerged, he found Thule arrayed not in armor, but in the lighter garments of a scout. He held the reins of two horses in his hands, one of them his own. “You know these mountains better than I,” he said. “Will you help me choose a place to build our fortress?”

“Of course.” He took hold of the grey’s proud mane and mounted, as the Visigoth turned to do the same. Lana peered out at them. “I’ll return as soon as may be,” he told her.

The two men rode off.

They followed the gorge south again, neither speaking. Krieg understood that he was being tested, and a statement of Thule’s own courage made. For they were two men alone, riding toward a very real threat: marauders many times their strength. And even as Lana had said, a part of him thrilled to the danger, and was not at all reluctant to accept the Visigoth’s challenge.

They passed the stump of the broken crucifix. Thule reigned in his horse, and finally spoke.

“So. Where should we build our fort? Remember, your wife and unborn child will be inside it.”