|
| |
AD 782
Siegfried
suddenly nickered very softly and Bruno was instantly alert.
He reached forward and patted the horse's neck to quiet him, at the same
time reining him to a halt. Bruno
strained his ears, and then he, too, heard it. The tramp of horses, the
rattle of armor, the shouts of men who had nothing to conceal.
Many men, many horses - and instinctively Bruno knew they were not
friends. Quickly he led his great
horse off the path into the deep woods. He
donned his helmet and dismounted, the better to pass through the dense
undergrowth. He quietly led the
horse, angling off until he was parallel to the Volksweg.
He followed it a ways, choosing his path carefully, until he came to a
spot where he and his horse were well concealed but he was afforded a clear view
of the road.
He
did not have long to wait. Within
moments there appeared the van of the Frankish army, or at least a good part of
it. The men seemed to be in high
spirits, laughing and joking, indulging in horseplay.
In fact, it seemed to Bruno that many of them were intoxicated.
There obviously was no discipline or attempt at secrecy or even order.
Their clothes were disheveled and filthy - or were those bloodstains?
Oh, Wotan! exclaimed Bruno to himself as a horrible thought occurred to
him. But where are the hostages?
There was not a Saxon face among them.
I must find out what has happened.
He tethered Siegfried to a branch and patted his nose.
He knew the horse would be quiet, as he was well trained. Bruno slithered on his belly through the underbrush to get as
close to the road as he dared. Finally, he was close enough to be able to discern what the
men were saying. Frankish German
was somewhat different from Saxon, having been corrupted over almost three
centuries by Gallic and Latin, but it was close enough so that Bruno could
understand most of it and piece together the rest.
"Well, I guess we've finally fixed these
heathen Saxons this time. They
won't be so quick to fight us again."
"Yes,
they'll know now that our Karl means to be king of all this land right to the
river Elbe, make no mistake."
"Aye,
and perhaps beyond, if the truth were known.
There'll be no stopping him now."
"And
he'll teach these heathens to be Christians - with a sword at their throat.
It's the only way they understand."
"Aye
provided we leave any for the monks to convert."
They laughed uproariously at this.
A cold sweat was pouring off Bruno as he lay
hidden in the underbrush listening to this, but he still was not sure what had
really happened. The next group
that passed made it horribly clear.
"Forty-five
hundred in one day! What a master
stroke!" "Our
Karl's a genius, that he is. To
have picked that spot right at Verden where they used to vote in their Allthing.
That should break the back of this whole rebellion."
"Well,
they won't vote there anymore. That's
for sure." "Democracy,
hah! No wonder they're so
disorganized, letting women have a say in their government."
"Well,
he gave them their choice, didn't he? The
cross or the sword. They had their
vote." "But
he really didn't give them much chance to decide.
Heads were falling before most of them really knew what it was all
about." "I
don't think he intended to give them a choice.
He only let them think that. He
wanted to set an example."
"And
he surely did that. But why the
women and children? That bothered
me a little." "Ah,
my friend, don't you know that most of their women can fight as well as the men?
And as long as they are alive they can bear more potential rebels -- and
children grow up."
"I
suppose you're right, but then why the old people?
Some of them were so feeble they could hardly walk.
They would have died soon enough of the shock."
"But
they are the very ones who keep alive the dreams and the stories of their old
gods, and they stir up the young ones."
"Well,
I for one thought it was pretty awful, herding them together like that -
forty-five hundred of them all slaughtered.
They were so helpless."
"What
would you have done, you fool? Handed
them swords and said, 'Let's have a fair fight'.
No, that's not our Karl's way. He
saw an opportunity to avenge Süntel and he took advantage of it.
That's why he's a great king."
"I
still think it was brutal. There
was blood running everywhere. Look,
we're still covered with it. I wish
I could wash my clothes."
"Ach,
you're too squeamish, young one," said an old veteran.
"I rather enjoyed swinging this old battle-axe to the right and to
the left with no opposition for a change."
Bruno
felt the bile rise in his gorge. He
almost vomited where he lay. Then,
as the next group came abreast, he heard more.
"Too
bad we had to sack and burn Verden. Kind
of a pretty little place where the two rivers come together."
"But
look at the loot we got. Some of
the best yet." "Ah,
but you won't see any of that, my friend. Those
beautiful white horses from that big stud farm, the King and his nobles will
keep them, you can be sure."
Bruno
was aghast. The sacred horses of
Wotan! His rage was so great he
almost betrayed his hiding place in his desire to throttle the speaker. But he was so weak from the shock of what he had heard that
he could not move. All the hostages
slaughtered in one day at Verden! Forty-five
hundred, if these brutish yokels could be believed.
And at the Allthing, the centuries-old parliamentary meeting place of the
Saxon nation. Silently he cursed them and their fiendish king in the name
of every god he knew. And then he
laid his face in the leaves and wept.
Back
To Excerpts
|
