Backstory fic: Five Days In Faesulae

[ostro_goth]

1.

It was a tired man that rode into the courtyard at midday, tired and dusty. His long black cloak and tall black horse looked matte and dark grey, and his black armour was dulled; but his head was held high and proud, his face pale despite the sunshine, his eyes dark and quiet. By that, as much as by the axe and harp hanging from his saddle, Rauthgundis knew who he had to be, for Witichis had spoken of him often.

Liuta, and the other maids, were standing behind her in the kitchen door, looking out at the newcomer with round-eyed fascination. "That must be the Black Count!" Liuta whispered, awestruck.

"Count Teja of Tarentum, a friend of my husband's," Rauthgundis declared, calmly. If she was excited to see that almost-legendary young fighter arrive in her own dusty courtyard, chickens scattering before the hooves of his horse, she would not show it. A naive farmer's daughter she might have been, but now she was a duke's wife, and would greet his noble friends as befitted her.

"Liuta! Fetch the good goblet, and pour the good wine: - I would greet him as is customary!" she ordered her maid. "Berenike! Stop gawking, and go find Wachis, to take the Count's horse, and make sure a stall is ready for that fine beast! Ursula, go wash Athalwin and put his best tunic on him; I would not have Witichis' son shame his father, even though he is but four years old!"

The dusty rider, spotting the women in the kitchen door, jumped off his horse and led it across the courtyard, towards them, thwarting Rauthgundis' plans to ceremoniously hand him the goblet while still on horseback, the mistress of the household greeting the noble guest in style.

"Greetings, Lady Rauthgundis," he said, using her name. "I have a message to you, from your husband, Duke Witichis!" Athalwin was being carried out, struggling and protesting at unwarranted mid-day, mid-week washing, through the other door, the one leading to the interior of the fine villa rustica.

Count Teja took a scroll from his saddle bag, and held it out to Rauthgundis. Liuta put the filled goblet into her hand at the very same moment. Rauthgundis stepped forth from the shadow of the kitchen door into the noonday sunlight, offering her guest the goblet, then accepting the scroll in return. "Greetings, Count Teja of Tarentum," she said, proving that he did not have the advantage on her.

She watched the man sip from the rim of the goblet, in a way she had rarely seen a thirsty Goth do, then broke the seal and slowly read the message, in Witichis simple sentences, stating that he would meet with four close friends at his lands before the week was out, on important business that must needs be discussed and conducted away from the court of Queen Amalaswintha. Would she please make all ready, and offer hospitality to his friends while they arrived?

It was no reason to panic! She was a duchess now, these things happened! Suppressing her worry, she looked up at the warrior before her. He quietly held the mostly full goblet, large and golden and heavy, in both his pale and callused hands, his horse's reins slung over his elbow.

He was not drinking the wine?

"May I have water, please, lady?" he asked, quietly. "It is hot, and I am thirsty. I would not fall about drunk."

"Oh, of course!" Rauthgundis said, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry -- just a moment -- of course!"

She did not remember to order Liuta, but darted back into the kitchen herself, took down a large clay cup from the board (a good one, still genuine Samian ware from before they had stopped making that; it had come with the house), dipped it in the large water vat, and offered it to the guest, still dripping.

Count Teja had approached even closer, and stepped into the kitchen. Outside, Wachis was leading the dusty black horse away.

He put down the good goblet with the wine on the kitchen table, took the clay cup with thanks, and drank.

It took time, and then he put the clay cup down as well, empty. He had, truly, been thirsty.

"I would see to my horse now, and attend the things I need ready when the others arrive," he said, nodding to Rauthgundis, then turning to go, following where Wachis had taken the horse. Berenike the Greek maid started to giggle, but one look from her mistress silenced her.

"We cannot pour back the wine," Rauthgundis said, looking at the good goblet with dismay. You could do it with rustic table wine, but not with the good wine, meant for the lords! "Give it to the men tonight, well watered down; it would be a pity to waste it. And now, we have much to do!"

Berenike and Liuta sighed, and Ursula, returning with a clean Athalwin, shook her head. Athalwin sulked, because the big horse and the big battle-axe were already gone, and he had so wanted to look at them!

Ursula, the Roman, was the oldest of Rauthgundis' women; she had come with the house. So she was the one that the young Gothic duchess consulted with about what to do to make the household ready for guests; Witichis liked his private life private, and rarely brought people by, and if he did, there were never more than one or two. Each of the noblemen was likely to bring some armed men and grooms with him; none would appear by themselves and not require more than water and a place for their horse, as Count Teja had done.

He did not reappear, nor did Wachis, all afternoon. When the women needed more grain brought in, and the hand-mill turned, Rauthgundis sent out Liuta to find Wachis, and bring him. She did not return for a while, either, and when she did, she had a smudge on her cheek, and Wachis was sooty, outright. "The Count asked for the forge," he just said. "Finest smith I've ever seen. Sell my soul to make such arrowheads. Honour to pull the bellows for him! How much grain?"

Ursula told him, and he fetched, taking his shirt off and making a show of his superior strength; Liuta giggled at that, and Berenike rolled her eyes. Athalwin went away to play for a bit and returned sniffling, but wouldn't say what was wrong, was then divested of his good shirt and allowed to help in kneading bread, along with Wachis -- it was hard work, also!

The evening meal was to be in the good dining room, with fresh meat and good wine and freshly baked bread, and Rauthgundis wearing her good fibulae and acting the part of duchess that was still strange to her. Their guest, having washed off the grime of travel and forge-work (Wachis had started up the bath-house for him, it turned out, and almost slapped Liuta who wanted to help, because he suspected her of just hoping to ogle the Count), sat at table, Germanic style, and ate and drank in silence, and sparingly. There was nothing to indicate whether he liked or disliked some dish or drink; but he did keep to water and bread, and spared wine and meat in a way she had never seen a man do. He did eat an entire smoked trout, while of the roast meat and the sauces, he left most.

Count Teja had brought his battle-axe and his harp with him into the dining room, as his dearest possessions he would not leave around outside; but little Athalwin, allowed at table as the only man of the house Rauthgundis had to offer, did not try to touch either; indeed, he sat close to his mother, ate his foot without spilling any crumbs (in a way Rauthgundis had never seen him do) and pretended to be the most well-mannered child any mother could wish for, when she knew full well that was not so.

After the meal, when the women were clearing the dishes, Rauthgundis asked the Count if he were going to play and sing; music was rare, apart from the maids singing over their work, and those, being an older Roman, an impulsive Greek, and a young naive Goth, could rarely agree that the song they knew was actually the same. Her question, though, was greeted with universal looks of shock, apart from the Black Count, who cast down his eyes and did not answer. "Everybody knows Count Teja never plays for others!" Liuta blurted before she could stop herself; and then, she fled on the spot, mortally embarrassed for speaking out of turn in that manner.

"I am sorry, Count Teja," Rauthgundis said, and he looked up now, nodding, as if he accepted the apology. She took Liuta's place in clearing the table and shooed Athalwin out so he would not be underfoot; but when she returned from washing-up in the kitchen (and comforting the sobbing Liuta who was shocked deeply by her own audacity) to bring her guest more wine, Athalwin was lingering, quietly, to the door-jamb of the dining room door, and the soft tones of a harp came from within.

Count Teja was sitting in a chair by the window, gazing out onto hills and trees, vineyards and orchards, darkened by the stark light of the setting sun, the sky blazing in a way that made the earth seem but a shadow. Rauthgundis stopped in the doorway, beside her son, not wishing to startle the harper; and soon, she felt others appear beside her, in the darkened collonade, clustering in the doorway and pretending not to exist, so Count Teja would not feel he was playing to anybody.

But when Liuta arrived also, and stood behind Wachis, peering out shyly from the shadow of the tall, broad farmhand, Count Teja began to sing, a long, artful ballad (almost a saga of olden times) about King Theodoric's ancestors fighting the Huns. When he fell silent, the maids and grooms quickly dispersed, not wanting to dispel the magic of the moment by putting the Count to shame, which acknowledgement would surely bring; Rauthgundis alone walked in to light the oil lamps and pour her guest more wine, which he mixed liberally with water before drinking, thirstily.

"We will have your room ready soon, Count," she said, before she left.

"Do not put yourself to trouble, Lady Rauthgundis," he replied. "I would not use it much: - I have work begun, in the forge good Wachis liberally made me free of, in the name of his master and yours, that will need my attention, on and off, all night. I would stay there, watching over it. You will need your rooms for the friends your husband will be bringing soon; I prefer the forge-fire to the hearth-fire."

With that, he stood, slung the black cloak he had been sitting upon around his shoulders, gathered up harp and axe, and strode from the room.


2.

Any working farm or rustic villa would have its own forge, for repairing implements, and shoeing horses, sometimes no more than a store-room that could be converted for the use of a roaming black-smith or farrier. Witichis had made sure the forge of his home was well-furnished, so if needs be, his men might stock up their warlike equipment here; but it had rarely been used for any but the most domestic of uses before now. Plough-shares, not swords, were its destiny, or so it seemed.

When Count Teja did not appear for breakfast, Rauthgundis had dispatched Wachis to see if he wished anything to break his fast and slake his thirst after a night of forge-work; when he did not reappear, Rauthgundis poured water in a large jug, cut some slices of bread, put smoked trout upon a platter, and all of it upon a tray, and ventured towards to forge to feed her guest. She would not neglect her duty!

Wachis was treadling the gears that drove the whetstone, and, slowly, handing the Count small objects that he was sharpening upon it; when Rauthgundis appeared in the doorway, he did not stop, but looked at her, rather embarrassed. "Asked if I could help," he said. "Would have asked about break-fast when the Count had been done. Truly!" Count Teja put down the arrow-head he had been working on, and stood to face her. Wachis let the whet-stone slow to a standstill.

"I thank you, Lady Rauthgundis," the Black Count said, wiping his hands upon a rag. "Fresh water is very welcome; forge-work is thirsty work! If you would put it down by the door, I will send Wachis back to you and your women when I am done. You would have much to do, and will wish for his strong arms to help you with it. I would not take your succour from you."

Rauthgundis did as he asked, and walked away again; Count Teja had a way of dismissing company that she had never seen before, and that she was not immune to. She could not imagine any being importunate to him, touching him unbidden, or asking that which he would not answer. He was very restrained, temper banked like a well-tended forge-fire, but one felt that it was there, and apart from the tales of his fighting prowess, one could almost see the fire of his displeasure flickering, and would do nothing whatsoever to set the sparks flying.

Wachis, of course, returned without the Samian cups she had set upon the tray for the water; and rather than scold him for it, Rauthgundis set him to work beside Liuta -- at least they knew the same songs! -- and went to the stable courtyard herself, to rescue the cups.

She found the cups and the water jug upon the table outside the forge door, in the sun, one of the farm cats rolled up beside it, sleeping. Cats were a necessity, on a farm that would store its own grain and hay, and attract many vermin; but they were also a pleasure, their company granted as a privilege, not a right, as with the men's wolf-hounds that they would take hunting, and set to guard herd and hearth at night. The cat looked up at Rauthgundis, and allowed herself to be stroked, as if the caress was nothing more than an extension of the sunlight.

Count Teja was sitting beside the stable door, his cloak drawn over his head, his legs drawn tight to his chest; Rauthgundis could not tell if he was asleep, or merely deep in thought, and resting. In his arms, two of this spring's half-grown kittens were sleeping, usurping the man's body-warmth along with his goodwill. Rauthgundis wondered how to shoo them off, before the sleeping Count woke to their lack of respect, but just then, he moved, lifted his head, and looked at her, long pale fingers tangled in the fur of his small, striped companions. One of the kittens lifted a white jaw for attention, and the grim Black Count complied. There was something on his face that was closer to a smile than anything she had seen about him yet; so she poured the last of the water into the cup on the table, took the jug, and left the cup, for the Count, when he woke from his interrupted cat-nap.

Rauthgundis saw him again in the afternoon, when he came into the kitchen with Wachis, bearing an entire amphora of olive oil on a pole between them. "My lord -- you should not have!" Rauthgundis exclaimed, with the instinctual deference and independence of a free farmer's daughter who knew her place. "I sent the lazy fellow to fetch just a jug full!"

Wachis hung his head, scolded thus; but the Count looked at her, and shook his head. "No, my lady, believe me -- you shall need all of it, before this invasion is through, that I have been the messenger for. Enough oil will make any feast run smoothly, my mother used to claim -- she ran a a noble home in the country, much like this."

"Wise woman, your mother," Ursula said, looking up from the sausages she was stuffing. "Put the oil over here, and thank you very nicely, your highness!"

"I am but a count," Teja said, seeming almost amused. "And such titles -- ah, who cares for them?"

"I wasn't born to speak Gothic," Ursula said, shaking her head, "it's just I'm not getting a majority for Latin here."

The other maids laughed, and Berenike piped up to add, "Nor I, for Greek!" and they laughed more. Even Wachis chuckled, and Rauthgundis shook her head at the sudden merriment in her kitchen. Surely, the Black Count would have nothing to do with it?

"Where is your home?" Rauthgundis asked, to change the subject.

"Not far from here," Teja said, his face sombre again. "Halfway to Lucca, from Florentia, so even closer from this place. I know not where, precisely; it has been lost, as have been my parents, since I was hardly more than twice your son's age."

Now, his eyes truly darkened, and a hush spread through the kitchen as all returned to their work. Teja bowed his head to Rauthgundis, and left.

There were ten heartbeats of furious silence, and then Ursula said, "It was that Theodahad -- had you not heard?" and then she added a curse-word, so fearsome that Liuta clamped shut Athalwin's ears before Ursula had finished the phrase. All eyes turned to her. "I'm from here, and not all the way from Cyprus like some in this room that I could name, so I have heard such sad tales over and over, since I was a girl; that of Count Tagila is not different from half a dozen others. Indeed, my old master lost an olive grove to the" -- she said the word again, and Liuta sent Athalwin out, and for once, the child left tamely -- "and was glad that he'd coveted nothing more of his, for surely, he would have had it! Now, Tagila had distinguished himself in the wars against the Sarmatians, was made a count, married his childhood sweetheart and came to the rich lands of Italy..."

And she told them a story of a good man, happy with his wife and little son, brought down by the envy and malice of the priesthood and a noble-born Goth whose greed knew no bounds. "Later we heard that Hildebrand had dared to search for the child, and saved him," Ursula concluded her tale, "when none other would have dared stand up to that nithing Theodahad in such a way! None can begrudge Count Teja his darkness, as life has visited such a fate upon him, that early. None can demand cheer at the table, and songs to join in, from a man so stricken by ill-will of man and destiny at once."

Wachis rammed the knife he had been gutting trout with into the table, two inches deep, and gruffly declared, "What he wants, he will get from me -- no questions asked! And none of you women talk of this to the other grooms that'll come here. You know how people gossip!"

He drew out the knife with considerable difficulty, and gutted the next trout for smoking.

Count Teja reappeared for the evening meal, that Rauthgundis had kept much simpler than last night's. Athalwin, tired from a whole day's running around, was hardly awake enough to eat; but when the Black Count declared, "This may be the best moretum I ever ate," he woke up enough to try the moretum as well, even though he knew it, and declare, "Of course, Ursula makes it!" which brought a moment's wistful amusement to Teja eyes. "You are proud of your ladies, are you not?" he said, addressing the child directly. "Of course -- Ursula cooks the best meals, Liuta tells the best stories, Berenike sings the nicest songs, and mother is the most beautiful lady in all the world."

There was merriment among the women that were serving them, and even Teja looked at the little fellow with a smile. "How can you tell?" he asked.

"Father says so!" Athalwin said, with the absolute conviction of one that has it on the best authority there was in the world. "He has seen the Queen in Raven-Town, and her ladies at court, and the noblewomen in Rome, and he says mother is the most beautiful of all!"

Rauthgundis felt her face heat in a great blush, but Teja merely put down his goblet, and said, "Would you pick up my harp by the door, carefully, and bring it to me?"

Athalwin complied, carrying the small silvery harp as if he was bearing the greatest treasure of the realm; and Teja accepted it from him, and played for Rauthgundis and her household until long after moonrise. Athalwin had fallen asleep when Teja switched from the exciting ballads to old Greek songs that made Berenike sigh.


3.

The next morning, when Rauthgundis came to the kitchen, there was breakfast being made on all sides: Ursula was pestling up moretum, Liuta was taking the bones out of a freshly smoked trout, and Berenike was slicing bread.

"I think the Count needs not four women to serve him his breakfast," Rauthgundis said, shaking her head.

"I'm going to take milk for the kittens!" Athalwin piped up, cheerful as children are in the morning.

"Four women, and a little boy," Rauthgundis sighed. "We shall make him rue the day he came here."

Ursula shook her head. "He likes us; he is a good man, behind all that darkness! He'll know how it is meant."

So Rauthgundis stepped out, followed by her women, to serve her guest his breakfast in the stable yard, where he had been sitting, fletching arrows, when the little procession emerged from the house.

"I thank you, Lady Rauthgundis," he said, surveying the bounty they brought. "May I borrow Wachis for today; I would take him hunting, so there will be roast game when your guests arrive. This is no season yet to be slaughtering animals -- the young are too young, and the mothers are still needed."

"Of course, my lord," Rauthgundis said. "I am grateful for your help -- but truly, you need not..."

"It is no hardship," he said, shaking his head. "Surely, you must know that some men view hunting as a pleasure? I would take myself away for a while, and roam the countryside. Have your women ready to get to work when we return. Also, I would need a table to draw at, in the evening."

He had not asked for anything before, quiet and and grim as he was; so Rauthgundis nodded, glad that finally, she could do something for her guest other than largely stay out of his way.

She retreated, and her women followed, Ursula ushering along Athalwin, who would gladly have stayed, feeding the kittens milk at Count Teja's feet. But truly, it was obvious how much he wished to be left alone, and she would give him that one boon.

"Why doesn't he have any fun, ever?" Athalwin asked when they were barely out of earshot, and Ursula shook her head, picked him up, and only answered when they reached the kitchen. "His life was hard; sometimes, things happen that take all the fun out of it. There is no point in wanting to make him laugh," she said. "Just let him be. As he is, he is maybe the best fighter your people have."

"But there's no war now!" Athalwin said; he knew that much.

"No, thank God!" Ursula said. "And be glad if it stays that way because all the enemies have heard of the Black Count and won't tangle with him. He does not stop when other men do, but sees things through to the end. He fought on the border, for the old King, and has become legend already, young as he is."

Rauthgundis sighed. "He was already fascinated," she said, "now he is going to worship the man!"

Ursula laughed. "None of us would dare to show that, wouldn't we?" she said. "He deserves our respect for the way he is, and not to be pestered."

Athalwin nodded at that, serious beyond his year. "If he doesn't want to be jolly, we mustn't make him!" he agreed.

When Teja and Wachis returned from the hunt, the sun was setting, and Rauthgundis was in the garden with her women, airing linen and singing songs. Liuta and Berenike had found one that they both knew the tune to, if not the same words, and Ursula was humming along, needing no words.

"Keep off the grass!" she called at the returning riders; the linen could do without hoof-prints on it, when it was spread over the beds made up for the noble guests.

"Don't you order the Count around, woman!" Wachis replied; being taken into Teja's trust and temporary service had done his calm, gruff, over-modest nature good. "If he wants to ride over your linen, you'll just have to wash it again!"

Liuta giggled, and Ursula dismissed him with an exaggerated wave of her left arm. Rauthgundis had walked her way, meandering between the sheets, to the edge of the grass where the riders sat their horses, each with a yearling roebuck slung over the rump of his horse, and a brace of smaller game and fowl hanging from the saddle-horn.

"You have been lucky, and nature bountiful," Rauthgundis said, surveying what they brought back. "Ursula, you will guard the linen and Athalwin; you others, come with me to do our part, so the meat is hung and ready for the spit when the other guests arrive. Count Teja, you wanted a drawing table; or would you wish for a bath, first?"

His hands and face were bloodied from his work, and she remembered the first night. "Bath, please, if that would be no trouble, Lady Rauthgundis," he said; and of course, it was no trouble at all! Wachis stoked the bath-house fire once more, and Rauthgundis kept a close watch over her women, for while the Count might take being served breakfast by five with his quiet, fatalistic sense of humour, Rauthgundis suspected he would react very badly to ogling, or any other hint of lewdness. A sense she could not name told her that Teja, of all men, would be stricter and less pleased about such things than was usual, and she was not going to allow her women to repay his generosity with embarrassment.

Teja re-emerged, clean and free of blood, and leaned in the kitchen door, unarmed and dark, for some moments before Liuta noticed him, and startled badly.

"Where may I sit and draw?" he asked Rauthgundis, while he stooped to pick up all the costly pepper corns Liuta had dropped. "We shall need a map to pour over, when all are arrived, and I would prepare it now, rather than waste our precious time later."

"Of course," she said. "You may use the table that Witichis does the accounts at; there is room on it for a wide scroll. You can draw maps like a scholar?"

She had not resisted the question, again; and she would have bit it back even now, if she could.

"A man need not be a scholar, once he has seen and comprehended the craft," Teja said, patiently. "And I know the lay of our beautiful land as well as any man, being unconcerned with any particular land of my own."

"I am sorry, my lord," she said, unlocking the door to the room where Witichis kept the accounts and had his table. "Our rustic happiness must seem like a cruel mockery of your own life and a solider's duty and austerity."

"What do I fight for?" Teja said, spreading the scroll he had brought upon the table. "For my people; and you are my people. Your rustic happiness is what men like me defend at our borders. And yet, one day, it may not be enough. We might be asked to give all that we have for our people, and yet it will not be enough! No, Lady Rauthgundis, do not apologise for your happiness while you yet have it; I shall not apologise for fate if it tears the world asunder, despite our best efforts to defend it. We are but at the beginning of our tale, and through my map, great slashes will be drawn in red, and many pins stuck into it, before it is done."

Rauthgundis felt ashamed, bowed her head, and left him to draw it. Dark as he was, he could see nothing but darkness even in the future. With part of her heart, she pitied him; with another, she dreaded that his words would be fulfilled, and steeled herself towards that day. God would give, but God would take away as easily. Teja was living proof of it; and there was nothing, nothing at all, she could do to make it better.

It was late when he emerged from the chamber, bringing his oil-lamps with him; Athalwin had already been put to bed, and Rauthgundis was weaving, quietly, and going through lists in her head. She parked her shuttle in the loom, and stood. "I shall call my women to bring you supper," she said, allowing no contradiction; late as it was, she would not let her guest go hungry.

"They are all very loyal to you," Teja says, "and shall do your bidding even after moonrise; you are lucky in them, Lady Rauthgundis. Yes, I would have some cold meats, if you have them, and well-watered red wine, with my bread."

It took but a moment to provide that to him; and then, they left him to it, having no pretext to linger, or beg song from the Black Count. But midnight saw them all, even Rauthgundis herself, in the garden, listening to the music that came from the room where he had had his supper. He was re-working the simple song Liuta and Berenike had sung earlier, in the garden; and he was making a thing of marvels out of it.

"Now you know the right words to it!" Ursula whispered, and the others nodded, earnest both.


4.

For the next day, Rauthgundis had decided at night, at her weaving, they would clean the entire house, even those parts that none ever went to no more, having been uniquely Roman in use; she had devised a list as to who would do what where when, so work would proceed fast and orderly, and without any of her maids lingering overmuch around the Black Count, who had become an object of fascination, instead of dread.

Not that Rauthgundis could not understand!

So from early morning, Wachis and the other grooms were fetching and heating water; floors were scrubbed and corners dusted, soot was washed off white walls and daubed over, all rooms were aired, all fabric shaken.

Ursula had fetched and marshalled half an army of willing char-women from the town of Faesulae, while Rauthgundis herself and the maids did the finer work: polish furniture and mosaics, Samian and silver-ware. Rauthgundis had meant to take the Black Count his breakfast, but was delayed by the arrival of the char-women, who each wanted a silver coin before starting work; and then he had stood in the kitchen door, eyebrow raised in enquiry, and the last lingering townswomen fled with an audible 'Hooooh!' of true dread. Rumour had spread, it seemed, of who had arrived at the Duke's manor house earlier the week.

"That is the proper response to my presence!" Teja said, earnest, not batting an eyelash, to Rauthgundis, Berenike, and Liuta, who sat, polishing silver. All three of them broke into laughter, and Teja sat at the kitchen table, like all else, at the corner where his breakfast stood ready, on a stool, and had it there while they worked, complimenting the moretum and the trout.

"Have you nicked and dented knives?" he then said, putting down the water cup, "sieves with holes broken through, and pans or ladles with the handles bent? I would heat up the forge again today, and repair those, also, so whatever citified Greek servants Totila may bring from his Naples post will not sneer at the state of your tools? And you will need them all, before this meeting is over."

Berenike had perked up at the mention of citified Greek servants, and Liuta had perked up at the mention of the name Totila -- if any among the young bloods of the Gothic people was more famous than dread, dark Teja, it was sunny Totila, the shining Duke of Dacia, commander of Naples, the most important port through which trade with the realms of Visigoths and Vandals flowed.

Rauthgundis got up to fetch the box where she put broken, repairable things that had been replaced in some way, or were not urgently needed; Teja took it, looked inside, nodded, and took it away.

He returned in the evening, when Rauthgundis was paying the char-women, a long row of them, each accepting her handful of coins with an earnest nod, moving on to make room for the next. They were chatting to each other and to Ursula, but Rauthgundis had not enough Latin to understand their terse, rapid, vernacular chatter. She could do business with them, or shop in the town, even in Florentia; but she needed or them to speak slowly, which these did not. Suddenly, a dead hush fell, and she knew, without turning, that the Black Count had appeared in the doorway to the courtyard. The women bowed theiir heads, cast down their eyes, and crept out, touching the door-jamb opposite in their fear.

He held out the box of things he had repaired. "Ursula, would you hang those in their usual places, ready for use?" he said, in Gothic. Ursula hurried to take it off him. "Thank you, Count Teja," Rauthgundis said. The woman she had been paying flinched at the mere sound of that name -- so it really was? She needed a nudge in the back from the one behind her, who was the last in line. They fled, together.

"They know not that you would not harm a woman," Rauthgundis said, looking at the Black Count. Did that behaviour anger him, or hurt him? No, obviously, from his raised eyebrow and slouching posture in the doorway, it amused him.

"I would not," he said. "But let them believe what they will -- it serves a purpose! Let me be feared, so others may shine all the brighter against the backdrop of my darkness. I do not mind, and I do not wish to be loved by the masses. I am not lovable, for the undiscerning plebs."

"With which all three of us, albeit but maids, have been promoted to the rank of discerning plebs, at least!" Ursula declared, and both Berenike and Liuta laughed out with her. even Count Teja, the ever-grim, gave a short, gruff bark that might have been what passed for a laugh, with him.

There was the sound of many hooves in the courtyard that very moment, and Teja turned back to look out the doorway. "It is Totila, and his brother Hildebad," he said. "Now, Lady Rauthgundis, might be your chance to greet a guest with your goblet of wine?"

She blushed, standing from her table, and looked out. The best goblet was on the table, having been polished; she could hear the maids fetching the wine and pouring while she looked out at all the white and gold, shimmering in the early sunset light. Somebody put the best goblet, heavy with wine, into Rauthgundis' hand. She turned, and it was Teja, nodding at her in something that might even have been encouragement. She strode forth, followed by Liuta and Berenike.

There were two Gothic nobles, half a dozen armed men, and some grooms, making all in all about ten men and their horses; and the nobles waited, tamely, until Rauthgundis had approached them and handed up the goblet, first to the younger, golden, with long, curly hair, a helmet with wide swan's wings on, and a white cloak over his pale short-sleeved tunic, embroidered with gold thread. He wore a torque, and golden arm-rings on his lithe, sun-bronzed arms. He smiled at her, and it was like sun-rise.

The second man was similar, but rougher, taller, broader, stronger, gruffer; he was armed more practically, and had no ornaments about him. He accepted the goblet next, with much more comfortable a smile, less dazzling, but just as heartfelt. Just as she had had known Teja by sight, Rauthgundis knew that the first had to be Totila, the second his older brother Hildebad.

When Hildebad handed the goblet back down, and Rauthgundis tried to give it to Liuta, there was a moment's hesitation, as she was still gawping at Totila. She needed a nudge before she took it, then hurried away, blushing.

Totila sprang from his horse, and Hildebad followed suit, less impulsively; the grooms and armed men descended, also, and led all the horses away. When Totila, chatting to Rauthgundis about things that she had heard very little about, stepped into the shadow of the colonnade, he saw Teja, leaning in the kitchen door, dark and quiet.

He stopped, and his smiling face grew softer. "My Teja!" he exclaimed. "You are here already -- it is good to see you, my grim friend!" He reached out to pull Teja in his arms and embrace him, clapping him on his back; Rauthgundis almost flinched at the familiarity. But indeed, while Teja did remain stiff and unyielding in the embrace, like a statue to whom the emotions of men is nothing, he did lift his hand to stroke the golden curls that lay on the white cloak, stepped back, and accepted the white-winged helmet from his friend.

"My Totila," he said, quietly.

"Now, you will wish for dinner, Duke Totila," Rauthgundis began.

"Oh yes, we are terribly hungry!" Hildebad said, and Totila laughed, and boxed him on his upper arm, so muscular that it was as thick as a weaker man's thigh.

"Liuta, lead our guests to the good dining room, and we will bring wine and bread momentarily," Rauthgundis said.

"Follow me, Duke Totila," Liuta said, almost simpering.

Athalwin came running down the colonnade, and Totila picked him up, running, and greeted him, jokingly, as the man of the house; the little boy laughed, not at all put out by the stranger grabbing him and hoisting him into the air. On the contrary, he squealed with joy, and Totila threw him into the air and caught him. "Your son, Lady, is adorable!" he declared, and then he followed Liuta to the dining room, carrying the delighted child.

Berenike brought and poured the wine, and Ursula handed the bread around; then they hurried back to the kitchen to put together a quick dinner that was still worthy of the noble guests.

"I shall take in the trout and greens, and join them," a quiet voice said from a dark corner. "If any of you would take over his helmet, and put it with the rest of his things, to the room assigned him?" Rauthgundis felt ashamed at almost having forgotten the Black Count; he had melted into the shadows the moment his brighter friend arrived.

Ursula took the helmet from him, and handed him platter and bowl, and he went, nodding to the women.

The dinner took all evening, with Totila charming everybody with his tales of Naples and the strange people that came through its port. Even Rauthgundis was fascinated, and Athalwin needed to be nudged, several times, so he would keep on eating. Teja ate sparingly, as on the first evening, his eyes downcast, saying nothing. But he was not utterly forgotten.

When Athalwin had had enough of the fruit that were served as a last course, he hopped off the couch where he had been sitting beside the revered Duke Totila, and went to stand before Teja. "Should I fetch your harp, sir?" he asked, very meekly, almost shy.

"Oh, do not bother, little man!" Totila laughed. "Teja never plays for others any more! I have not heard him, except by accident, since we were both school-boys in Regium, at King Theodoric's academy for the sons of his nobles!"

Athalwin opened his mouth, looked at his mother, saw her face, and shut it again. Meekly, he went back to the couch and asked, "What are those Moors like, then?"

Totila sent one of his grooms, later that night, to help the women with the washing-up, a truly thoughtful gesture; even more so as he was a Greek Neapolitan, and started chatting to Berenike in their common language. She was charmed, happy for the company, and Rauthgundis took her other maids away, to ready rooms for her new guests. Athalwin had fallen asleep on the couch beside Totila, and was carried to his own bed.

The Black Count had just melted away into darkness.


5.

The next morning, when she had dressed and woken Athalwin, Rauthgundis found her women in the kitchen again, preparing breakfast for Totila and Hildebad, and for all their men, to take out to the stable yard where they had slept. Berenike was yawning, smiling, and saying nothing; and Rauthgundis had it not in her to question her, less to reproach her. She was a maid, not a free woman, and had to take brief snatches of happiness where she could.

But Rauthgundis had not forgotten her other guest. She sliced bread and deboned a smoked trout; she stole a small bowl of Ursula's moretum, and poured a large clay cup of fresh water, assembled it all on a wooden tray, and carried it out, to look for Teja.

Wachis, carrying water, saw her. "He is by the gate, waiting for others to arrive," he said, looking at the tray -- one other, it seemed, had not forgotten Teja over Totila.

Rauthgundis turned, and carried her tray the other way. Teja was sitting by the gate, on a tree-trunk bench that had been put there for any that was waiting for an arrival. he had his axe with him, idly balancing it on two fingers at five inches behind the head, where head and long shaft were in equilibrium. Coming closer, Rauthgundis saw why he was doing it: two of the stable-yard cats had followed him out here, and were trying to catch the end of the axe-handle, batting their paws at them.

"You have made some true friends here, it seems," Rauthgundis said. "I apologise for my maids!" She put the tray down beside him.

"I do not mind," Teja said, "Totila has that effect on any that he meets; I would not begrudge him their smiles, nor Berenike the chance to speak her own language!"

"I mind," Rauthgundis said. "I mind how he dances in here and eclipses you! All can see how wonderful Totila is, and I would not deny the truth of it: - but if one is given time, one will soon learn your worth, also; and that is not only that of a legendary fighter. You are a truly good man, Count Teja of Tarentum, grim and quiet though you are! Once or twice, I felt like..."

She fell silent, and Teja raised an eyebrow at her.

"I felt like slapping that cheerful golden fellow and tell him to shut up," Rauthgundis admitted. "He cannot always be in the middle of everybody's minds at all times, have all dance attendance to him, and answer for others, never looking for their true hearts."

Teja broke off some bread and dipped it into the moretum. "I would not begrudge him that," he said. "I am dark, and he is golden; I scare our enemies, and he forgives them. We both have our roles, and shall be needed, later, when my map is full of slashes and pin-holes."

"But it must rankle, now, surely!" Rauthgundis said; it rankled with her!

"It does not," Teja said. "I love him dearly, as much as any man may; and I will not begrudge him the sunlight that is his, by right and nature."

Rauthgundis could hardly argue that, and left him to his breakfast and his watch, and to the cats, who were looking very, very hopefully at the trout.

She went back to the house; but later, when she went to collect the tray, she saw Totila standing by his dark friend, his hand upon Teja's shoulder, and indeed, the Black Count was not shrugging off his friend's touch.

But at that moment, the next group of riders came up the road, first among them one on a very familiar horse, wearing a very, very familiar cloak -- a cloak she had woven and embroidered herself!

"Witichis!" she breathed, overjoyed, to herself; then, she hurried back to the house to make all ready to greet her lord, Teja and Totila all but forgotten together.-

Comments

Sehr gut!

[carolinw.livejournal.com]

Hey, nicely done :-)

Carolin

[ostro_goth]

Thanks!!