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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 minor skirmishes over land, and had traded with them for goods. They wore tunics and capes made of fine linen and leather, but had Roman belts with gold buckles.

      I was eager to hear Rochus and Evorik’s stories of adventure, during our ride to the nearest village of the Naharvali people. Their stories were filled with descriptions of Roman buildings and cities filled with marketplaces that sold anything you wanted. They described the women with their hair piled high on their heads, their beautiful ‘stolas’, and sandals. Water seemed to flow freely out of the fountains and into the bath houses, as well as high above the countryside in arched structures called ‘aqueducts’. I marveled at each new description of their food and homes, as well. The Romans seemed to be very rich with many coins. If I could only see all the wonders of Roman life for myself. I’d be thrilled.

      The other two men were much younger. Roderic was a serious fellow. He never smiled. He seemed intent upon getting to the destination and accomplishing the mission. He rarely spoke at all—a quiet man. Eiriks was a jovial man, who loved to wink at us with a great smile after telling a good joke. He was also a good listener, when we shared events of our own. He was very curious about how we had traveled without our families. He wondered where our husbands were—in battle, or off visiting a town to trade goods? He was amazed when I told him that we ran away from home to find great adventures. The other men thought we were a bit crazy for doing so. Eiriks understood our need to explore the land and the people—the curiosities, and the beauty.

      Before midday, we arrived at the Naharvali village. Roderic decided to inquire at the village blacksmith about the horses we described to him. The two older men, Evorik and Rochus, thought they would investigate some shops. Meanwhile, Eiriks would accompany us to the local marketplace, where we would search.

      In the marketplace, there were people selling livestock, clothing, pottery, leather goods, beautiful amber jewelry, silver and gold bracelets, fabric, and plenty of fresh food from crops and gardens. At one stall, I inquired about several pieces of jewelry; asking whether there was anyone new in the village. I searched articles to see if any had belonged to the brothers or to Saskia and me. Perhaps they were brought here to be sold. I was stunned when I picked up a mirror similar to the polished bronze mirror that Gerulf had given me. I was disappointed that it was not the same mirror. I thought of Gerulf’s blue eyes staring at me. I missed his laugh.

      Next, I searched for Saskia’s ax in the weaponry stall. I failed to find any that resembled her ax. I didn’t see any items that I recognized as belonging to the brothers, either. As I walked between the stalls, I saw some deerskin tents standing to the side of a stall. They looked identical to the ones we had made. Upon closer examination, I thought the stitching to be mine. I had the habit of stitching very crude patterns, and these stitches were undoubtedly identical to mine. The skins seemed to match, so I looked closer at the opening flaps. I noticed my mark, XXX where I had sewn them. I had no doubt that this was one of the three tents I had sewn. I looked at the other tents and found my mark again.

      I asked the vendor where she had found these tents. The woman was happy to tell me about finding them on a short journey through the Carpathians. Her friend’s family had accompanied them. They found not only the tents, but a man who was wounded. He was injured from falling, and he was blinded, bleeding from his eyes and other wounds. I held my breath. I was astonished to hear a perfect description of Gerulf, as the wounded victim. With further insistence, the woman promised to take me to her friend’s home for a meal. I told the woman that I would return with my friend, Saskia, and then, we would go together.

      “Saskia! I found the tents we had sewn. The woman who was selling them told me that she had seen Gerulf. He was wounded and blind, but alive! Oh, Saskia! Can you believe it?” I shouted. “Did you find anything?”

      “I found this!” she smiled. It was the ax

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