that it was safe among these strangers. I jumped off my steed and studied the horse. It drew closer to me and snorted, as though relieved to see me. I patted its neck and withers, stroking its side and spoke to it quietly. I noticed that it resembled Brunhilda. I spoke its name,
“Aah, Brunhilda, my sweet horse. You are Brunhilda, aren’t you? I missed you. Did you miss me? You probably thought I’d never find you . . . right? Well, you’re mine, and you will always stay with me,” I cooed into her ear. Brunhilda snorted with satisfaction. I led her over to the other horse I had been riding, and introduced them. Brunhilda sniffed the mare that I had ridden to the farm; the mare shook her head and mane, stepping back a few paces. They welcomed each other with nudges.
Saskia rode up to us and laughed at me conversing with the horses. “So, you finally found Brunhilda, I see. It’s a good thing she wasn’t captured by Sarmatians. They have an appetite for horse meat, you know!”
“Please don’t tell me that! I have enough to concern me. I must look for Gerulf’s horse. . . and Anselm’s horse. Help me find them, Saskia.” We had captured fourteen horses, but it was quite dark by now, making it difficult to search for these two horses. We thought it best to look tomorrow.
I did not see Draga during our battle. Saskia had not seen her. Perhaps Draga had hidden. If so, she had hidden well. Our only hope of discovering what had happened to her would be to search the farm tomorrow. We hoped to find her and thank her, as well as, inform her of how we had escaped. Perhaps she would be willing to travel with us. We would first see if we could find her.
We returned uphill to our camp, overlooking the dark valley. The women prepared the meal, as the men slowly returned up the hill. The campfires were lit, warming us in the late summer breeze. It would not be long before the winter winds blew inland from the sea. I wrapped a blanket around me, as Saskia and I sat by the fire. We had washed off the stains of our revenge and the sweat of earning it. We were warriors, such as the men of this tribe. Tomorrow will offer a closer inspection of our deeds this night. We fell asleep late, after telling the Gepid children and women how we had fought the Sporoi. Their blue eyes glowed in the firelight, as they listened.
The next morning, we awoke to the pleasant chirping of birds up in the tree branches. Saskia opened her eyes and smiled at me.
“I saw you battle some strong men yesterday. I was worried when two of them came at you from the left and right, one after the other. I thought you would need my help. You stood your ground, and raised your sword, to remove both their hands in two swift moves of your blade. I was very proud of you, Ermentrude,” she said.
“Thanks, Saskia. That is very good of you to say. Your att-a would have been extremely proud of you, also. You struck each man with all your might. You had slain quite a few big men with your sword, as well. I had to think about what they did to Gerulf, to find my inner strength at times, but I found it very easy to punish them without mercy. Those men will never harm anyone again!” I said.
“Ermentrude, we must find out what happened to Draga and to our other horses. Let’s have something to eat and go down to the farm with our weapons. I will ask anyone I find, if they know about the horses and Draga. Perhaps we will also learn about the fate of our friends, when we were captured, and they were attacked.
“That could be an interesting visit. We should take a few men with us. They can help round up anyone who wishes to join our group, as well as any coins, or gold we find in the house,” I suggested.
We ate a meager breakfast of porridge and milk, excited to head off to the farm to search for Draga and the missing horses. The sun rose, as we rode down the grassy slopes toward the farm. Outer buildings smoldered in their ashes. Bodies of the dead were strewn on the ground. We rode past a garden surrounded with a fence and into the yard near the entrance to the house.
As we entered the house, we heard the scurrying of feet and the scraping of chairs on the floor. Our eyes peered into a dimly lit room, where a fire once burned in the fire pit. We noticed a woman, sitting, with her head bent over her lap. Her hands were folded, quietly resting there. Other figures crouched behind furniture, hiding from us. Some small children played quietly in the corner near a doorway that led to another room. In all, there were less than seven people inside. As our eyes grew accustomed to the low light, we saw that the woman in the chair resembled Draga. Her face lifted upward and turned toward us; we knew that it was indeed Draga.
“Draga! You are alive!” I said. Draga studied my face, and a glint of recognition appeared in her eyes. She leaned forward. Her head tilted to one side; she opened her mouth to speak.
“You! You destroy everything! You and your people . . . kill my precious sons . . . my mother, my father . . . ruin my home! May your people die . . . terrible death! Your Gothic revenge has ruined me! Go! Live with the animals that you are!” she screamed. We left with our heads lowered, for we knew the destruction we had caused.
We searched the farm for someone who could tell us more, but everywhere, there was death. We mounted our horses and rode back to camp. My heart was heavy with sadness at seeing Draga again. I thought she would be happy to see us. Instead, she grieved for the loss of her sons and parents.
Saskia saw this in my face and decided to speak, “Ermentrude, do not feel sorry for Draga. She is the enemy. It was her men that attacked us! It was her sons that harmed us! It was her husband’s men that killed the brothers and blinded Gerulf! They are the ones who captured us and made us their slaves! Draga’s colors have changed. She will never be one of us!”
I nodded my head, acknowledging this truth. “I know you are right—my heart is pained though—just a little—for the loss of her kindness. You are right, Saskia. I must remember what happened to Gerulf and Anselm—to their brothers. Two families were destroyed . . . all because of her men.”
“We must search for the horses now. I hope we find them. It will be of some comfort to find their steeds,” Saskia said.
“I can remember Gerulf’s horse with its white eye and notched ear. It had white marks on its hind legs. Do you remember Anselm’s horse?” I said.
“Anselm’s horse was dappled with gray and white spots. Its mane and tail were dark; its hooves were dark, too. That’s enough to recognize it,” Saskia said.
Back at camp we walked over to the horses hobbled with rope, grazing on grass. A man guarded them. We searched among the horses for identifying marks, but we did not find the ones we remembered as belonging to Gerulf and Anselm.
“Their horses might have been sold or traded in a nearby village, Saskia. We should find the villages where they were probably sold. The Gepids would know these places. Let’s ask them,” I suggested.
“We could search forever and not find the horses, but I guess we should try,” she answered. Both of us looked disheartened at the enormous task before us. We headed for the main part of camp.
We asked some of the foot soldiers where the nearest villages would be, and whether anyone would be willing to accompany us on this quest. Two men told us of several villages to the west that were settled by the Naharvali tribe. We decided to start there, since they were the closest. Some men were willing to go with us and search for the horses. The rest of the people would remain here at camp. We would need supplies and our horses. We planned to leave the next day when the sun rose.
In the morning, we met our escorts, Eiriks, Evorik, Roderic, and Rochus. They were riding fine steeds; all were experienced cavalrymen. Two were older men, who had roamed the land from the Danuvius (Danube) to the Mare Suebicum (Baltic Sea), and from the Rhine to the Hypanis River. They had helped the Romans with
