Night of the wolf, p.15
Night of the Wolf, page 15
Then the memory trailed away as he approached his comrades. The tallest and largest of the pack eased toward him, walking slowly, stiff-legged in the blowing snow.
Maeniel approached Decius’ body. Yes, he was warm, still living and, what was more horrific, he was conscious, eyes staring up in terror at the encircling wolves. Maeniel positioned himself next to Decius and snarled into the other pack leader’s face.
The others, including the leader, looked undecided. Was the half-frozen rag of human flesh lying in the snow-covered ruts of the field worth the trouble? Worth chancing getting wounded if the big stranger really decided to put up a fight for what he obviously considered his prey?
Maeniel advanced a few steps. The others drew back, almost disappearing into the swirling white.
Maeniel crouched, lowering his head and hindquarters. Surely an attack from behind was imminent, but he found he wasn’t the other pack’s objective.
The animals he’d left stabled in the hut screamed. A split second later, the pack leaped toward him, closing in.
One chance. Maniel turned human.
But it was perhaps Decius who saved the day. He let out the most horrible scream the gray wolf had ever heard in his life.
The terrified wolves exploded, running in every direction.
Maeniel snatched up Decius, threw him over his shoulder, and bolted for the hut. As he reached the doorway, he was pushed aside as Decius’ mare crashed into him, knocked him sprawling, and took part of the wattle and daub wall with her. One wolf was on the mare’s back; another hung from her throat. She jerked, twisting to one side. The wolf on her back lost his footing and fell, thrashing into a snowdrift. Then she reared, bucking, sunfishing, and the one clinging to her throat fell free, leaving a line of bleeding gashes on her neck.
She made it, Maeniel thought. Now I’ll have to fight all of them. Good, very good chance they’ll get us before dawn. Leaving the still-screaming Decius struggling in the snow, he dashed into the hut and snatched up the sword, then ran outside again.
The mare stood at bay, facing the wolf pack. In one bound, he leaped to her side and drove the sword in, just where the neck joins the head. She died instantly, blood fountaining from her throat. Then he turned, snatched up Decius, and dove into the hut.
It took him a few moments to block the door, then build up the fire. He was shivering violently again as he donned the tunic.
Decius sat, teeth chattering, extremities blue, crouched near the mule and the remaining horse at the far wall. His hair was standing on end. Maeniel had never seen a human with his hair standing on end. He knew, in theory, they were able to manipulate their follicles in the same way as cats or dogs do, but he’d never seen it happen.
Outside they both could hear the snarls, growls, and wet slurps as the pack began to feed on the dead horse.
“Eeeee!” Decius screamed. “What are you going to do? Eat me, too? Eeeee!” he wailed again.
“No,” Maeniel snarled, sounding very much like his confreres outside. “We don’t eat each other. We leave that to you.”
Decius blinked at him, not understanding the statement.
“I killed the horse to save both our lives,” Maeniel said.
“You’re one of them.” Decius’ teeth were chattering so hard, Maeniel had trouble understanding him.
“No,” Maeniel said, almost dropping with exhaustion. “I’m no more one of them than you are.” He was surprised to realize he was telling the truth and found tears were running down his cheeks. Found himself grieving deeply, in sorrow over something lost that he could only barely comprehend and never explain.
His tears as much as anything seemed to calm Decius. He could not believe that whatever Maeniel was, he could seem to suffer so much pain and then commit an act of cruelty.
They shared the remaining food and wine. The heat of the fire inside the shed melted the snow and ice on the walls outside, but it refroze quickly, forming an insulating covering for the hut. In time, between the fire and the snow buildup, it began to be almost cozy.
Maeniel didn’t ask Decius what happened. The Roman seemed to be a bit fuzzy in the mind and that was very much all right with Maeniel. He decided he would probably need him to get across the river tomorrow and gain admittance into the oppidum where Imona was imprisoned.
He was still determined to rescue her. He believed she had not understood him. He had to get in again and make her listen to reason. All male creatures believe they have a corner on reason. Maeniel was no exception. He had no idea what the inhabitants of this particular settlement intended to do with her, but knowing humans as he did, he couldn’t believe their intentions were good.
In the meantime, he had to keep this silly Roman alive and, hopefully, sane enough to help him reach his objective.
Maeniel thanked the universal powers that the wine seemed to have calmed Decius. He huddled in the straw, covered by his mantle, very near the fire, while his extremities returned to their proper pinkish color and, for a time, the pain of recovery from frostbite distracted him from the sounds feeding wolves made.
He asked Maeniel, “In the morning, will they still be there?”
“No.”
“You’re sure? Do you know them that well?”
Maeniel was doing his best to knock a small hole in one of the wattle and daub walls to keep track of what was actually going on outside. He turned and gave Decius one of his long, slow looks. “No, in answer to your question. They are not friends of mine any more than the brigands were, but I know the habits of wolves well.”
“This I can believe,” Decius murmured.
“Yes, do so. I am an authority. This pack was driven down from the mountains by the blizzard. Likely they had not fed in several days, otherwise they would not have risked coming so close to human dwellings or anywhere else a fire burned.”
Finally, with the help of a sharp stick, he was able to drive through the ice-crusted wall and create a small opening. He peered out. Shadowy gray shapes still lingered near the scrappy horse carcass, and the snow was dying down. Indeed, only a few small flakes still fell. Above, the moon rose among ragged high-flying clouds and, from time to time, the glow of a few stars could be seen.
“No, the snowstorm is past. When they are full fed near dawn, they will leave and probably not return.”
Decius let out a deep sigh and then began to snore. Maeniel curled up on the other side of the fire. The hut was comfortably warm now. The surviving horse and mule slumbered in the corner, standing over the manger. Maeniel watched the smoke from the fire rise to the steeply pitched roof, seek the highest spot where the roof was joined to the only surviving wall, then curl and eddy, looking almost liquid before it escaped into the air outside.
Yes, once we were welcomed at their fires. He remembered the face of the woman by whose side the ancient one had rested under the tree. Her eyes had been open and looked into his. The wolf then had seen a heroic vision in them. True, her brows were not as high as these humans’ now were, but he had seen in her face the vision of what a world directed by intelligence might be. That and the knowledge they were both allies, warm living things, flesh and blood, feeling hunger and love. And outside, in the bitter icy night, the dark, eternal cold of a lifeless wasteland reached out its claws to take them and lock their aspiring souls in everlasting darkness. In entering a compact to defeat it, they would both achieve the highest of victories. The ancient wolf had understood and now, so did he. He slept wolflike, lightly, waking when the mountain pack circled the lean-to just before dawn, then headed back to their dens near the tree line.
They set out well after daybreak. Decius tore through his packs and found some clothing for Maeniel, a clean tunic and some trousers, and leggings for both of them. Decius had boots, but Maeniel made do with socks and sandals. He was tolerably comfortable since the sun was up and the temperature was rising.
Decius repacked the baggage and saddled the horse and mule. He didn’t mention anything that had happened last night. Once or twice he said he felt dizzy, and was sure the blow to the head had addled his wits.
Maeniel did not contradict him. When they left the hut, neither man looked over to the drift where the horse’s head, hooves, and a few tumbled bones lay.
Decius was mounted on the brigand’s scrawny gelding. Maeniel followed on foot, leading the mule.
The sun was high in the sky when they turned off the overgrown road to the path along the river. They reached the ferry landing after a half hour’s travel. The boat was on the other side of the river. The two men paused on the landing and waited. Decius avoided looking at Maeniel.
The sun shone in the clear sky. Ice formed in the night was melting, creating a patterlike rainfall in the stark woods. Except for places in shadow, the snow had melted, and the river shone sparkling like a diamond, but the wind was still cold.
Decius shivered a bit at the breeze from the river. He drew back to share the shelter created by the big bodies of the two draft animals. “I can . . . not remember what happened last night, but I know you probably saved my life.”
“More than once,” Maeniel replied.
“I thought so.” He still didn’t look at Maeniel. “I’m surprised you didn’t go and leave me or at least take the packs. They have valuable things in them.”
“Not to me.”
“No! Yes! But then, I can believe, after what I didn’t see last night, that a few golden trinkets might not impress you. But if not gold, what do you want?”
“I need your help to get across the river and enter that settlement.”
“And what do you plan to do then?”
“Steal a woman.”
“Oh, no,” Decius moaned. “Don’t you realize it’s as much as both our lives are worth to offend that chieftain over there? Oh, help me, father of all the gods. If Cynewolf doesn’t kill me, Fulvia certainly will.”
“Who is Fulvia? Stop whining and explain.”
“Fulvia is my mistress. I’m one of her freedmen. Oh, sisters of Zeus, I was happier when I was a slave and a bath attendant, before that louse Firminius decided I had a nice ass.” He gestured at the river. “Do you think I’d come to this godforsaken, frozen, muddy ditch of my own free will? Do you realize how much wine these turd holes drink?”
“Probably not as much as the Romans.” Maeniel was exasperated.
“Well . . . maybe not . . . Oh, in Isis’ name, what does it matter? It’s enough to line the Basilian family and Fulvia’s pockets with gold, not to mention the commission I will get and my continued freedom.”
“But you’re free now!” Maeniel uttered the words through his teeth.
Decius’ laugh was hollow. “Oh, yes, probably in law and in theory! I can’t imagine Fulvia or Firminius paying attention to any known law. No, depend upon it: if I don’t maintain Fulvia’s monopoly with these ghastly Gauls and please that big, hairy chieftain across the river, they’ll recoup part of their losses by selling me at auction. I’ve seen her do it before to other men unfortunate enough to blunder at the wrong time. Please, please, I beg you, don’t drag me into the kind of trouble flouting this chieftain’s hospitality will cause me.”
Maeniel uttered a snarl that set Decius’ knees to shaking.
“I’m beginning to believe all the things I didn’t see last night are true.” But when Decius looked around, he found himself alone. “Maybe he’s gone,” he muttered.
He was just beginning to feel relieved when a large gray wolf trotted out of the forest and took his place at Decius’ knee. “No,” Decius whispered. “He’s not gone.”
Across the river the ferry departed the opposite shore. A man driving a small flock of sheep, perhaps eight or ten, joined Decius at the landing. He was followed by a lady on a fine strawberry gelding and accompanied by two footmen.
The sheep didn’t like the gray wolf at all. They huddled into a ball around the shepherd.
The lady dismounted and took up her position next to Decius. She was obviously of noble birth; a glance at her jewels made this clear. Add to them the fine carriage of her horse and the two well-armed warriors who followed her, and it was obvious she was no ordinary person.
She wore a heavy cloak with the hood back. She was magnificently beautiful, but it was plain she was no longer in her first youth. Her hair, dressed with gold chains and coiled in braids at each ear, was threaded with gray. Fine lines could be seen in her cheeks and there were crow’s feet around her eyes.
She ignored Decius and stared off pensively into the middle distance, watching the ferry making its laborious way toward them. One hand held the cloak at the neck, the other hung at her side.
The wolf poked his nose into her hand. Ahhh, the wolf thought, sweet, clean, perfumed flesh. Woman flesh. Woman smell. Woman, woman, woman softness. Ahhh.
She felt the nose in the palm of her hand and looked down. “Oh, my, what a magnificent animal. Is he yours?” she asked Decius. She offered her hand to the wolf. He sniffed the soft fingers enthusiastically; one doesn’t want to give up one’s dignity completely, but he waved his big, plumed tail gently.
Then she stroked his head and scratched properly behind the ears. The wolf’s mouth opened and he gave her a big, happy, doggy grin. “So beautiful, so well behaved,” she told Decius. “You’re lucky to own so fine an animal.”
The wolf turned his head and gave Decius a more ironic version of the same canine smile.
Decius got control of his throat and answered, “Why, yes, my lady, he—” Decius’ voice squeaked involuntarily and he was forced to clear his throat. “He’s been no end of help to me on my journey.”
“Yes, well, maybe, but the sheep are afraid of him,” the shepherd commented.
The lady bestowed a charming smile on the shepherd. “I’m sure they have no reason to worry with a strong man like you to look after them.”
The shepherd looked bludgeoned. Decius sighed.
She scratched the wolf behind the ears again. To Decius’ jaundiced eye, his companion gave every appearance of ecstatic delight. “Oh, you’re a fine fellow. I’m sure when we reach my brother’s stronghold across the river I can find you a nice, big, meaty bone.”
“Your brother!” Decius exclaimed. “Then you must be the Lady Enid.”
“I am,” the lady replied.
“How delightful to meet you,” Decius gushed. “I’m here to bring your brother greetings from the Lady Fulvia and the Basilian family. Greetings, salutations, and presents from his Roman friends.”
“How very kind of you,” Enid purred. She responded well to the proffer of a gold bracelet, offered with respect when they reached the other side of the river.
Thus it was that the wolf found himself under the table in the chieftain’s great hall, occupied with the promised meaty bone, while Decius flattered and bribed the man before his own hearth.
Things such as two exquisite wine pitchers in silver and bronze with animal head finials on the handles and lids. A service for six, wine cups, a platter for cakes, cups embossed with nude men and maidens, a tray embossed with the same men depriving the maidens of their right to be called maidens.
“Ooh, how naughty.” Enid snickered.
“How valuable?” the chieftain muttered as he turned and weighed them in his hands.
“They are pure and heavy silver,” Decius said.
Cynewolf dug his thumb into the bottom of the tray and found it unyielding. “Not really. Pure silver is very soft.”
“Well,” Decius fluttered, “some baser metal has to be mixed with the precious one in order to render it useful at all. Perhaps you will be better satisfied with these.” He presented him with a dozen golden torques.
The chieftain bent one and grunted, apparently satisfied with its flexibility.
“To be sure,” Decius said in an oily voice, “we will expect the same—or even perhaps a larger—order for wine this year.”
Two other men sat at the table with the chieftain. One wore Roman dress and even a toga—an affectation for him, really, as he was not a Roman citizen. The wolf didn’t know this, but the chieftain and the rich and successful farmer seated on the other side did.
Under the table, the wolf examined the bone from top to bottom. All of the meat was gone, completely stripped off by the canine fangs and the shearing rear molars. There always is a risk to bone cracking and this was a large one, but the wolf gave the equivalent of a mental shrug and bit down.
Crack! The sound echoed loudly in the silent room. All of the men in the room started, as did the only woman, Enid.
Decius shivered. He didn’t know quite why. The hall, round after the ancient custom, was covered with a high, cone-shaped roof. The hearth, also after ancient custom, was black and dead. The only light was supplied by hazy daylight streaming in from the smoke hole at the apex of the roof. A still-higher cone, which prevented rain and snow from entering, protected the smoke hole, so the light that did enter was rather indirect and dim. A large round table, also after ancient custom, surrounded the hearth.
The chieftain pushed the gold aside. “We can’t talk business today. It’s unlucky.”
Decius cleared his throat. “Tomorrow then.”
Mir entered. He was dressed in a long, dark cloak that covered his body and hooded his head. None of the three men sitting at the table would look him directly in the face. He walked quietly to the table and sat down beside the rest.
From the other side of the room, Decius and the wolf stared at him across the dead hearth. The bone cracked again as the wolf cleaned out the marrow.
“Tomorrow,” the man beside the chieftain said.
“Tomorrow,” the man in the toga said.
“This is not an auspicious day,” Mir contributed.
Decius found, for some unguessable reason, his mouth was dry.
“Enid,” Mir said. “Go and make sure she bathes and eats the porridge.”
The look of sweet amiability faded from Enid’s face and she looked pinched and drawn. She had been examining one of the silver cups in a desultory fashion. Suddenly, she banged it down on the table and directed a look of fury at Mir.
