are missing? I heard about this . . . from some of the traders in our village. They traveled there a few weeks ago, and returned here, saying that no one was around . . . not even a sign of a mouse,” he declared with his bushy eyebrows raised an inch above his eyes. “Everyone wondered where they went off to.”
“Has anyone tried to search for them?” I asked, with hopefulness written on my face.
“Ne, you know that our people are strong, and at times, fierce fighters, but they do not go out of their way to find trouble, knowing that it’s so difficult to get out of it,” he spoke, gesturing with his hands raised in the air.
“We have another concern—for a good friend, who is a Gepid. We met him and his brothers on a trip about a month ago. We were captured as slaves, our Gepid friend was blinded, and his brothers were slain—left for the wolves and bears to devour. We need your men to help us find our friend, and our families. We must find our friend, Gerulf. We think he might still wander below the Carpathians.” My tears slid down my face and onto the linen tunic I wore.
“You were captured as slaves? My dear . . . how did you escape? Do you know who captured you? Where were you captured, and where were your friends attacked? Do you know? Without this information, we could search forever and never find your friends, nor the men who did this terrible deed.” Hathus was filled with wrath.
“It was interesting—how we escaped with two stolen horses, from a Sporoi farm near the Carpathians. We left hastily from this farm, somewhere northeast of the mountains in a lowland, near a river east of the Wisla. It was probably the Hypanis River, near the Bastarnae tribe—or it could have been further north in Venethi territory. Their language sounded different from our own words. They might have been Sporoi,” Saskia noted.
“Why do you think this, Saskia?” Hathus asked, resuming his meal of bread and cheese.
“I have heard their language before, when my father and I hunted at the head of the Buh River two years ago. We saw some men dressed similarly to the ones we saw at the farm. Their words were almost the same as the words we heard, giving us orders to be quiet, when we were captured,” Saskia informed him.
“Hmm. Today, I will speak to the council of elders. We will gather information of your villages’ disappearance. I will tell them of your problem, which is now our problem, since some of our own men were slaughtered. The Gutthiuda people have always befriended us. They are true allies. I will get the council to help you find Gerulf, and the barbarians who killed his brothers. Perhaps it will take two or three groups of men to search these vast areas. You will lead them to the place of your capture. This act will be avenged by the Gepid people!” he exclaimed. Hathus pounded his fist on the table, making the morsels of food jump.
“Oh, thanks to you, dear Hathus. Our parents will be pleased that you found the time to help their daughters. Thanks for your help, my dear friend!” Saskia said. She hugged him and kissed his cheek again, much to Hathus’ pleasure at being kissed by a young woman. He missed the touch of his wife.
“You may accompany me to the council of elders, and wait nearby, for the council’s decision. If they need time to think, they are fools! For we must not waste too much time thinking on these matters!” he added.
The moon was in the correct phase for the council of elders to meet. Saskia and I walked with Hathus to the meeting that late afternoon. It was held outdoors in a large space, away from the village. We returned to the village to wait, thinking of Hathus speaking to the council. We hoped he’d find out what had happened to our villages, as well.
Saskia and I were eager to hear what the council’s decision would be. We even made a plan of what to do once we found our families. We would stay with them for a day, perhaps, then take my brother and Saskia’s older male cousins with us to find Gerulf. If our fathers wanted to join us, we would welcome their help. At least, we had supplies with us, for the journey.
It was evening when we saw Hathus walking toward us. His face was serious, but his stride was energetic, despite the use of his walking stick. He was walking rather fast—so briskly that I thought he would fall at one point.
When he reached us, he shouted, “It was difficult to get an answer, but the council agreed. They will gather men who want to search for your friend, Gerulf. They will help you avenge the deaths of his brothers, and do whatever else you need. But, the council deemed it unnecessary to search for your people. They left of their own free will, according to a witness who told the council that the Gutthiuda have moved on—south to new lands. The witness asked why they were leaving the Wisla. They told him there was better land in the south. Your people were tired of so many invasions into their land. The Marcomanni, the Quadi, and the Langobardi are eager to spread their nations eastward. Your people left their homes for their allies to use. They left two weeks ago.”
“Then, we must leave tomorrow with your men to find Gerulf, and evidence of what happened to our friends. We must take our revenge!” I spoke.
I imagined Gerulf dead, or struggling, without weapons—blind. I only hoped he was still alive. Saskia mourned the loss of Anselm and all the brothers, but tried to be strong. She felt as though there would be no rest until their deaths were avenged. We both felt we would never be as close to someone, as we had become with Gerulf and Anselm. Our hearts would never fall for that emotional trickery again. For if we were to meet someone, and get too close, we feared we might lose them as well.
Saskia was eager to return to her village, to gather items we needed for the journey back toward the mountains. We went to the brother of Hathus to ask for his help. He was eager, offering his wagon, as well as his two oxen. He said he would drive the wagon himself, since we were inexperienced at driving oxen.
The next morning the sun’s rays spread upon the meadows. We arose and readied ourselves for the long trip. Once we said good-bye to Hathus, we rode to his brother’s house and collected the wagon and oxen. His brother, Wallia, was a pleasant man of fifty-six years. His wife was about the same in age. She seemed as though she was looking forward to a great adventure. She must not get away as often in her older years, I guessed.
“Thanks for driving the oxen, Wallia,” Saskia said. “I see you have someone to share the journey with. Is this your wife?” she asked.
“Ja, this is my dear wife, Anya. She enjoys a good adventure,” he spoke, smiling at his wife, with love in is eyes. Wallia drove the wagon with his wife, directing the oxen, to navigate the muddy path between our villages. They both held hands at times.
After an hour, we arrived at Saskia’s village and loaded up the wagon. Saskia was saddened by seeing the empty paths between the houses, where neighbors once came and went throughout the day. There were no visiting neighbors now.
By mid-morning, we returned to the Gepids’ village. Twenty men mounted on horses, and the same number on foot walked beside a small number of women. Oxen pulled several wagons, loaded with supplies, behind the small army and cavalry of men holding spears, swords, and other weapons. They knew that some of their own people had been attacked, captured, or murdered.
We rode our horses to meet them, stopping only to tell them where we were headed. Wallia’s wagon joined the other ox-drawn wagons behind the soldiers. Two horses led the procession, with men holding effigies of Wodanaz and Punaraz, the wolf and the bear. We joined the cavalry in front of the procession beside the wooden effigies. The buzzing insects told us that it would be another day of heat. There would be few clouds to shade us from the blaze of the sun.
We rode our horses, in a solemn mood. We were thinking of our revenge once we found the farm where we were once held captive. There would be bloodshed. There would be wails from people
