Prologue 12
"Before my time, with two Chieftains
before me, there was one who was the bravest of us all. He was named the
Warrior as it befits his courage and skills. His real name was never said by
many, but I knew it. He was my great father of the fathers'; Gessikrik. He led
us then known as the Vandals to fight Rome. He was not alone, there were the
Quadi and Sarmatians. We cannot leave out the Gauls who was openly in the
rebellion then."
"We harassed the Romans the whole
length of the river Danube, and over it to the foundations of your
empire." The tribesman recalled the past. "Gessikrik would not settle
for the invaders plaguing the land. He rounded up the others. There were some
who were resistant."
"I remember the meeting of the
tribal."
"Cartila son of Tartila." The
young man looked to the large man who loomed over his head. He was still in his
teens, and had been asked by his father to joined in the discussion. He had
rode hard with the father and the others for over a week. The meeting was held
in a valley guarded by the warriors, with scouts as far as the next hill to the
river bend that ran through the valley. It was a half a day's ride to there but
the tribesmen wanted it to be well guarded.
"Gessikrik, if you scared my
successor, I would be battled you here now." Tartila stepped in to protect
his son. The two leaders gave us other the stare me down and then hugged each
other.
"Where have you since for over three
winters?" Gessikrik asked his friend of over twenty years. They fought
each other and with each other on others.
"You were getting along with
Hilde..." Tartila told the other.
"Okay, but you were right. She was a
lousy lay..." Gessikrik told his friend. They both laughed and then pulled
themselves to the tribal meeting. It was seated by nine tribes, but at the
conclusion, only five tribes remained seated. Gessikrik got them to swear on an
oath that they would unite.
"To the Romans, we would had them
know who ruled Gaul." They all cheered. It was recorded as the Marcomannic Wars. It was to take on over a
decade, but the casualty of the war, was one Tartila. His son was to joined the
main tribe of Gessikrik, who migrated to the western shores of the continent.
Cartila grew part of his adult moving and fighting off the other Gaul tribes
who had dispersed on the Roman conquest. Their new trail of migration also draw
the others like the Saxon and Celtics who were there not to welcome the new people.
Gessikrik had a
son. He was much younger and always tagged Cartila for attention. It was not
easy for the other was only three years old, and in battle, he was shooed off
with the women. Not that day, the tribe was overrun by the Roman legionnaires,
but the young boy was missing. He was not found when they regrouped. Gessikrik
was very upset that his son was missing. He sent out scouts to find his son but
they came back empty handed.
"Are you
telling me this belong to Gessikrik son?" Othello asked. "I bought
this in a market at Rome. So whoever sold it may the one you seek."
"The son of
Gessikrik hold one other mark. He had a scar on his left knee like yours."
Othello laughed.
He told the other the scar was inflicted in an earlier war.
"You can
deny but you cannot deny forever." Cartila replied. "The boy may be
you. You are no Roman. The bones tell me that the prodigal son will
return."
Othello had the
leader put to death.
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