out of trouble hadn’t been that big a deal if she was honest – so she’d just have to do a few more things to make Chamanca like her. The strange thing was that she found herself much keener to please Chamanca than the two men who were much kinder to her. What, she wondered, was that about?
It didn’t look like the Iberian had that much time for Walfdan either. She’d asked him to use druid magic to break their chains but he’d said that his magic was of a more subtle variety. This had not impressed Chamanca at all. It hadn’t impressed Spring much either. If she’d still had her magic, she’d have at least tried to free them. She suspected that Walfdan was one of the many charlatan druids that Lowa so often cursed.
Chamanca did, however, seem very keen on Atlas. They often sat with their limbs touching, and they slept right next to each other. Spring hadn’t heard that they were a couple, however she had been away from Maidun for a while. But they didn’t seem like a couple, not quite. They were more like two children who fancied each other but didn’t know what to do about it.
They were chained in the open air, on a foot-high wooden platform at the edge of a square area clear of tents. Tall posts at each corner of their dais held up a leather canopy which kept the sun off for most of the day and would have kept them dry if there’d been any rain. Spring was pleased and a little surprised that her captors had been so thoughtful. Chamanca had spat when she’d seen the awning and said, “That’s Germans for you, so fucking sensible.” The clearing seemed to be the central meeting point, but it was impossible to tell how central it was in relation to the rest of the camp because she couldn’t see any further than the tents that surrounded it and she’d been blindfolded when they’d brought them in.
Spring expected the Ootipeats and Tengoterry to jeer and throw rotten food at them, as people would have done in Britain, but either the looks on Atlas’ and Chamanca’s faces stopped that from happening, or the Germans were simply more decent that the Britons. Despite the four armoured guards glowering at them silently from a safe distance, plenty of passers stopped to chat. After she’d heard the life stories of ten boring old farts while dodging repeated requests to tell her own, Spring began to think that a few decaying apples in the face would be vastly preferable to the intrusive politeness of her captors.
So, unwillingly, Spring learnt a lot about the Germans. The Ootipeats and Tengoterry weren’t so much an invading army as an evading one, driven from their own lands by an even larger force of yet another German tribe called the Suby. The numerically superior Suby drank nothing but milk and ate only meat. As a result they were all sturdy giants with no sense of humour, unbeatable in battle.
“And they never discipline their children,” one thin-lipped, effusive gossip enthusiast told her.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Spring managed to say as the woman paused for breath,
“Oh no, you have to bollock children regularly and beat them every now and then or they become selfish little shits and grow up into arrogant arseholes. That’s what’s happened to the Suby. They’re huge, never hung over and they take violent offence at the smallest thing. They’re dreadful .”
Spring also learnt from the loquacious woman that Senlack hadn’t killed his queen, who’d been a beautiful and stylish young woman. Brostona had done for her, as well as her own husband, then insisted that Senlack marry her. Senlack had just gone with it. He was that sort of guy. He was also mute. Spring actually found that titbit interesting. She’d put his quietness down to Brostona being overbearing, but, no, Senlack had never spoken. It was generally assumed that he was so lazy he simply couldn’t be bothered. Spring asked a few people how such a lackadaisical man had managed to become king. He just had, they
It didn’t look like the Iberian had that much time for Walfdan either. She’d asked him to use druid magic to break their chains but he’d said that his magic was of a more subtle variety. This had not impressed Chamanca at all. It hadn’t impressed Spring much either. If she’d still had her magic, she’d have at least tried to free them. She suspected that Walfdan was one of the many charlatan druids that Lowa so often cursed.
Chamanca did, however, seem very keen on Atlas. They often sat with their limbs touching, and they slept right next to each other. Spring hadn’t heard that they were a couple, however she had been away from Maidun for a while. But they didn’t seem like a couple, not quite. They were more like two children who fancied each other but didn’t know what to do about it.
They were chained in the open air, on a foot-high wooden platform at the edge of a square area clear of tents. Tall posts at each corner of their dais held up a leather canopy which kept the sun off for most of the day and would have kept them dry if there’d been any rain. Spring was pleased and a little surprised that her captors had been so thoughtful. Chamanca had spat when she’d seen the awning and said, “That’s Germans for you, so fucking sensible.” The clearing seemed to be the central meeting point, but it was impossible to tell how central it was in relation to the rest of the camp because she couldn’t see any further than the tents that surrounded it and she’d been blindfolded when they’d brought them in.
Spring expected the Ootipeats and Tengoterry to jeer and throw rotten food at them, as people would have done in Britain, but either the looks on Atlas’ and Chamanca’s faces stopped that from happening, or the Germans were simply more decent that the Britons. Despite the four armoured guards glowering at them silently from a safe distance, plenty of passers stopped to chat. After she’d heard the life stories of ten boring old farts while dodging repeated requests to tell her own, Spring began to think that a few decaying apples in the face would be vastly preferable to the intrusive politeness of her captors.
So, unwillingly, Spring learnt a lot about the Germans. The Ootipeats and Tengoterry weren’t so much an invading army as an evading one, driven from their own lands by an even larger force of yet another German tribe called the Suby. The numerically superior Suby drank nothing but milk and ate only meat. As a result they were all sturdy giants with no sense of humour, unbeatable in battle.
“And they never discipline their children,” one thin-lipped, effusive gossip enthusiast told her.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Spring managed to say as the woman paused for breath,
“Oh no, you have to bollock children regularly and beat them every now and then or they become selfish little shits and grow up into arrogant arseholes. That’s what’s happened to the Suby. They’re huge, never hung over and they take violent offence at the smallest thing. They’re dreadful .”
Spring also learnt from the loquacious woman that Senlack hadn’t killed his queen, who’d been a beautiful and stylish young woman. Brostona had done for her, as well as her own husband, then insisted that Senlack marry her. Senlack had just gone with it. He was that sort of guy. He was also mute. Spring actually found that titbit interesting. She’d put his quietness down to Brostona being overbearing, but, no, Senlack had never spoken. It was generally assumed that he was so lazy he simply couldn’t be bothered. Spring asked a few people how such a lackadaisical man had managed to become king. He just had, they
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