vigorli

Title: Des Koenigs Loesgeld
Author: fra
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando, Elijah/Karl, Elijah/other, various.
Rating: Mature
Warning AR (alternative reality/historical)
Summary: A Roman soldier makes a strategic mistake and becomes a kings ransom.
Feedback: Is the lifeblood of my creative spirit. (just kidding)
Email: fra_hulettaes@yahoo.com
Archived/crossposted: vigorli, orlandoslash and fra_fiction.
Disclaimer: Ye-ah, about that. Don't know, lease or own any of this. But you men in black are welcomed to make an example of me so I can shout my right of speech from the rooftops of the prison.
Beta: Not exactly, well, beta'd. More like, generally approved of.
Author's Notes: In the early days of Roman expansion into the Germanic states. None of the places or people exist but resemble things that might generally have happened during that time. This is playing very fast and loose with both Roman and Germanic cultural structures. I'm jamming history, LOTR and a book by Mel Keegan called East Wind Blowing into a moshed up story of my own making. The title is meant to say a Kings Ransom. It is incorrect and I'll be changing it once I've got the new graphic. Series until the natural end of the story. I started this before I knew of other Roman stories in the fandom though I'm sure the fandom is big enough for a few in that era. Also, I pretty much threw in every LOTR/LOTRps character I could think of and as the story goes on, I think more will show up. The names have been, hmmm, how to put this, modified? To fit the story as I saw it.
ETA: thanks for all the great comments from native speakers of German. I really appreciate them.

Könige Lösegeld

fra

2005

They had moved in the night. Orlanus' belly ached from hours slung over the saddle and he recognized nothing of the surrounding misty trees and hills. And he was cold. The ragged layers of his tunic, armor and cloak kept none of the northern chill from his aching bones.

His captor was a single northman, a grimy hand wringing slave to the tall soldier who'd bested him two days previous. That warrior had spent some hours conferring in his rough language with several other northmen loudly and with occasional sharp crack of fist on wood.

He knew none of this tongue and so had lain bound and aching on cold ground while the wolves fought over his future. When finally his fate was decided, the lesser men had made him fast over the saddle of a wide, furry northern pony, his care given to the slave now cooking his meal over the coals of a tiny fire.

The slave sang quietly to himself, occasionally stabbing the air with his small knife and then rocking forward and back, head tilted as though listening for a distant voice. Orlanus was not close enough to smell him now but for the few moments when the creature had dragged him from the pony, Orlanus had gagged and coughed at the stench.

He rolled forward and struggled to sit on his knees. The slave did not look at him but kept stirring and singing.

"I beg you please, for water." He said. He kept his head down and waited to be noticed. The slave made no move toward him but his singing stopped and there was a long moment of tense waiting. Orlanus cleared his throat again and this time looked at his captor. "Please," he croaked and looked at the drinking bladder lying next to the man's grimy coat. "May I have some water?"

The slave looked at Orlanus then followed Orlanus gaze to the drinking bladder and spoke some of his rough, dark words, struggled to his feet and shuffled towards Orlanus, a leering smile on his pasty face. Orlanus swallowed a wave of disgust and opened his mouth to catch the stream of water.

The water tasted like nectar of the Gods and he drank greedily, swallowing quickly, mouth still open to catch every drop. After a few moments the slave drew the bladder away and capped it, returning to his fire to stir whatever was in the meager pot.

Orlanus voice was much more its normal timber now he'd had a bit to drink and it gave him some of his confidence back. "Please, allow me to do as nature intended?" he asked. The slave looked at him again, head tilted, waiting for a clue.

On his heels, hands tied behind him he had little in the way of pantomime but he looked at his cock and squirmed uncomfortably as though he were a child. This time the slave grimaced and spat angry words at him, but he did get up and grab Orlanus arm, dragging him to the line of trees.

"I cannot tend myself while my hands are tied." Orlanus shrugged his shoulders and looked ruefully at his cock again. "Please." He added quietly.

The man drew his short blade out and cut Orlanus bindings but the instant the ropes fell, the slave's knife was at Orlanus throat. His threat was clear and Orlanus understood. They watched each other carefully, Orlanus trying not to move too much, as he untied his smallclothes and relieved his aching bladder.

Not more than a minute later he was again kneeling in the loamy dirt, hands behind the small of his back tied securely. Those small things attended to, the slave went back to his meal and Orlanus was left to wonder where he was and to whom he'd been traded.

~~~~~~~

By sunrise, the small glade was free of fog and the slave arose to stir the ashes and prepare to break camp. Orlanus slept fitfully, on his side, his head at an angle that left him with a painful crick in his neck. He hissed as he struggled to his knees and rolled his shoulders to assuage the pain.

This time the slave brought him water without being asked, allowed him to relieve himself and the small luxury of washing his hands and face. He shivered and worked quickly at the layers of dust and blood and began to feel human for the first time in nearly a week.

He was given a small chunk of dark brown bread and a square of hard white cheese; his first meal in days and he ate it quickly.

When slave moved towards him, no doubt to make him fast over the pony's Orlanus shook his head.

"Please, let me walk. I will not run. I beg you, let me walk or ride astride." He said pleadingly.

There was a moment of impasse, both stubbornly holding ground when the sound of horses and men floated into the clearing and the slave grabbed Orlanus by the back of his neck and shoved him down to his knees.

Barely a breath later there was a knife under his chin and a hand in his hair while the slave shouted guttural words at a half dozen mounted and armed men. Orlanus gasped, the sharp jerk pulled the pain in his neck and the slave's hand was merciless in his hair.

Once the slave was done shouting, the largest man of the mounted group spoke to him in quiet, reasoned measures. His language was of the northmen but unlike the soldiers who'd captured him, this man spoke softly with rolling sounds instead of harsh breaks.

His captor yanked Orlanus to his feet and shoved him to the pony's side. Before he could be thrown over the wide back, the tall mounted man spoke again and the slave shouted derisively over his shoulder while bending Orlanus towards the pony.

The next flurry of action was too quick for Orlanus to follow but it ended with the slave face down in the muddy loam and Orlanus being held by the tall, now un-mounted, man.
The tall man spoke quietly to his soldiers and quickly they were mounted up, Orlanus behind the tall man with the slave astride the pony, hands tied and yelling at the top of his lungs.

Orlanus couldn't help a small feeling of pleasure at seeing his captor's predicament.

~~~~~~

By mid-day the small train of men and horses came to a large town built around a huge wooden house. The town was well fortified with walls and guards and the group was stopped several times to make their presence and business known at the succession of baileys.

His erstwhile captor had quieted down, his words all but ignored by the soldiers as the morning wore on and he was left to scowl at passersby as they entered the last fortification at the rear of the immense wood and stone house.

Orlanus was helped off the horse, his hands still tied but in much better spirits than he'd started the morning. He and the slave were taken into the house, along dark corridors and between rooms until, at last, they came to huge open room near what would be the front of the house.

In that room, on a large chair sat a man. Orlanus guessed he must be the ruler of this house, this land. He was made to kneel before the large chair, not on cold stone or dirt but on rich, thick fur, near a warm hearth. Its heat felt like a blessing to his sore muscles and he sighed.

~~~~~~~~

Viggo was not, as some would say, a blood thirsty king. In fact, he would argue, in his solemn way, that he was no king at all. Just the caretaker of his son's lands until that boy was old enough to rule in his stead. This did not stop Viggo from protecting his lands with force of arms or from annexing those lands, the people of whom, desired his protection.

He was a warrior. But he was also a thinker. His Mother had ruefully said that he was born in the wrong lands, that he should have been one of the other folk. Viggo would laugh at that, but sometimes he wondered if she were right. She had been very wise.

Looking at the tableau before him, he wished she were here to advise him. His tall riders, the simpering heap of Rimma Grimhold and a ragged and tired Roman soldier. He sighed and rose to stand before the Rimma.

"Rimma," he said the name with great sympathy, "what have you been up to, eh?" He nodded to the roman boy in ragged armor and cloak, and patted the man's shoulder.

"Is this some trick of Sarn's? You come to my lands, against my words, and bring a Roman? I have no use for a Roman, Rimma." The Kings voice grew hard as stone. "Tell Sarn, he has had the last good of me. Next time, I will bring my men."

"Great King," Rimma stammered, "I come not from Sarn. He is dead these thirty days." The words tumbled out pitifully from Rimma's sickly mouth. "This boy," he gestured towards the roman, "is the payment of Boron. His gesture to you so that you may ransom him to the Romans." Rimma nodded, almost happily.

Viggo considered him and turned to the roman boy. He knelt and lifted his chin with one long finger. Until that very moment, Viggo would have said he would never again treat with Boron or the Romans. But the boy, no man, before him was like nothing he'd ever seen.

He was slim and fine, dark as a raven's wing with eyes to match. Viggo was bolted to the spot, unable to move, his breath taken clean away. Even dirty, tired and bloodied, he was like no other. Viggo's fingers lifted a heavy lock of dark hair and tenderly moved it out of the man's eyes.

"Beautiful." He murmured. "What are the terms, Rimma. Quickly." His voice went hard and he stood away from the roman, anxious to finish business.

"Boron asks that with this ransom his bloodguilt to you be forgotten and that in the spring you send an emissary to draw the boundary between your lands. He is anxious for peace."

"He is anxious to have allies against Rome." The King said.

He walked back to his large chair, upended a sleeping cat from the seat and settled into the wide padded space.

"You may tell Boron that I accept his bloodguilt. But he will send an emissary to me in the spring and I will decide on our shared boundary." He turned to the soldier at his side,

"Karl, take this," he paused for a moment, "slave" and waved towards Rimma, "to the border where you found him. And then come back straight away. I have need of you here."

"As you wish, my Lord." Karl said and left the hall in the company of his men dragging Rimma along between them.

Viggo turned back to the roman and sat, quite literally, staring. The roman sat on his heels, shoulders bent forward, head tilted down, seemingly waiting for what would happen next. This was no boy. This was a man. A fighting man. He was young, Viggo had no doubt of it, but he was blooded and every aspect of him spoke of killing skill.

Servants came and went, the fire was stirred and when finally Viggo was through with his observation, the cats had made their bed upon his lap. He rubbed absently at one furred head and called one of his caretakers.

"Find Elly and bring him to me." The caretaker nodded and moved away. But before he was out of range Viggo added "You'll most likely find him in the east stables loft." And then smiled to himself. "The stable lads are there now."

~~~~~~~~~

Orlanus had begun to doze, sitting in the warmth on the fur. This was luxury compared to his time in the other northern camp and like any soldier, he knew to take rest when the opportunity presented itself. A few moments or minutes later he caught himself nearly falling forward and snorted himself awake much to the Lords amusement.

His new captor was lean and honed as a weapon. But while his posture spoke of coiled strength, his eyes were clear of malice though not soft and his face held a thoughtfulness he'd long missed since his defeat to the south. He wondered not for the first time what had become of his men, or their bodies, he thought sadly for there had been few survivors.

By now the garrison would know of their defeat and a corps would be sent to parley for the officers. Of which he was one. But not just an officer. He was the son of a senator and the bedfellow of the great Vellos Arenus. He could just hear Vellos bellow when they told of his defeat. The thought made him smile and then frown. Vellos had been right about the northmen and should he ever make it back into the general's ranks, he was sure to receive some stripes for his arrogance.

He secretly welcomed anything that would mean he would return to the 9th. If it was stripes, well then, he'd take them like the soldier he was and hope his talented mouth would once again have him in the general's good graces. At worst, perhaps Vellos would send him home to serve in Rome. An outcome that felt like ashes in his mouth.

He wanted to fight. To earn his place in the army and to someday earn his place in the senate like his father before him. Looking at the northern king, he wondered if the road of his life would end here, at the hands of this quiet, dangerous man. He shook his head. His fate was in the hands of the gods and always had been. He would just have to bear their will.

~~~~~~~~

The roman waited well. Viggo watched all the long time it took for Elly to come before him and in all that time the roman neither sweated nor begged. He had nearly fallen over asleep in the beginning, his snorted awakening brought a smile to Viggo's face. It was a soldier's trick to sleep in odd positions and it spoke well of the roman.

Some time later the hall doors opened admitting the caretaker and a smooth skinned younger man. Viggo stood up and enfolded the youth in a warm embrace.

"You smell of mischief, little wolf." Viggo tilted the young man's face up for a soft kiss and a ruffling of dark hair.

"The stable boys are in, as you well know, my Lord." Elly quirked a beautiful brow at his king and shifted into a saucy pose, "and I am loath to be drawn away from them."

Viggo laughed and kissed Elly again. "My apologies for your loss, little wolf. But we have business to attend. Yes," he gripped Elly's shoulder, "even you must attend me sometimes, wastrel." He said fondly. "What," Viggo said turning Elly towards the roman, "Do you make of that?"

Elly crossed his arms and looked in frank appraisal at the roman. His eyes slid to Viggo and then to the roman again. "It's a roman." He said and looked at the soldier again. "A roman soldier. What do we need a roman soldier for, my lord? Unless," Elly stepped closer and knelt before the soldier, nose wrinkling at his unwashed smell. "it was a wealthy roman soldier."

He fingered the fine ornaments on the roman's breast plate and the tight weave of his tunic. His scarlet cloak was stained dark with blood but there was no doubt of it's finery.

Viggo nodded, smiling. "It's a gift from a friend." He was too smug about this for Elly to miss the reference.

"Boron?" Elly smiled evilly. "He wants an ally against the Romans." Elly finished with a nasty chuckle. "And what will we owe Boron, my Lord?"

The King smiled slowly, "We shall have our ransom and we will forgive Boron's debt," he said quietly.

"And the Southfold?" Elly asked. Viggo drew Elly back into his embrace.

"In the spring, Boron will send an emissary to negotiate the new border of the Southfold, little wolf." Viggo kissed the lush, upturned mouth and Elly, smiling, let him for a good long time.

It was Elly who broke the kiss and set his fingertips to the king's full lips. He looked at Viggo for a time, firstly to see what he could of Viggo's mood and then, curiously, to see what had not been revealed.

"It has been long and long since you kissed me so, my Lord." Elly's words were a quiet drift of sound, meant only for the king's ears. "I am happy about the Southfold, it was my dearest wish, but this," Elly's fingers drifted softly over the king's lower lip, "speaks of something awakened in you." He searched the king's face as he spoke and, tellingly, Viggo's eyes were the first to drop.

The king's gaze fell on the roman and Elly followed it there with poorly hidden surprise.

"The roman? My lord, are you quite mad? He is our peace for the next year. Perhaps more. You cannot," Elly stumbled on the words. "He's not," Elly continued. "My Lord?"

Viggo's sea-colored changeling eyes did not lie. Elly knew it in an instant. His king would have the roman and they would fight Rome in the spring, with or without Boron at their backs.

"My Lord," Elly said slowly, "I think we will need those mercenaries after all." He laid a gentle, white hand on Viggo's cheek. "What would you have of me, my Lord?" Elly whispered.

Viggo sighed and let his forehead touch Elly's. "You know me too well, little wolf." He said ruefully. "Bathe him. Dress him. And keep him to you. And when Karl returns I'll send him to you both. He goes nowhere without you. Both of you. Mind my words, little wolf. He is your charge." Viggo mirrored Elly's hold on his cheek. "Until I call for him. Do this for me." Viggo sighed. "Do this for me, Elly."

Elly looked at the King and then the roman. He smiled a wry smile.

"Without question, my Lord." He said. Viggo hugged Elly tight then released him and knelt in front of the roman.

Once again he lifted the fine smooth chin with is fingers and met the cool, dark eyes.

"How are you named?" Viggo said in the roman tongue. The roman's eyes widened with surprise, his relief showing plainly.

"Orlanus Delia, my Lord." He said, his voice a smooth cultured tenor.

Viggo smiled.

"Orlanus." He whispered, fingertips learning the curve of Orlanus cheek. "Orlanus Delia. Given to Diana. A fitting name. I am Viggo. This is my home." Viggo gestured to himself and the room by way of introduction and then drew Elly down by his side.

"And this rogue," he tousled Elly's hair, much against the younger man's will. "is Elly. He is my," Viggo and Elly looked at each other as though sharing a great secret, "he is like my own." He stood and pulled Orlanus to his feet. "Go with Elly, Orlanus. I'll call for you soon." Viggo cut the ties on the roman's hands and helped to rub some of the life back into them.

Orlanus smiled in gratitude and followed Elly out of the hall.

Viggo watched them walk to the door, watched the caretaker open it and the scarlet cloak fade into the dark hallway beyond.

~~~~~~

By the gods the hot water felt good. A year since leaving Rome. In that year not once had he been submerged in hot, clean water. His muscles and joints relaxed and he lay as the dead, head on the side of the giant wooden barrel tub, floating in a misty haze of steam.

His guardian Elly, had added herbs and oils, chatting quietly in his native language all the while. Of all the things he expect from being a prisoner, this was not anywhere near the list. Whatever had happened between the slave Rimma and the King, Orlanus had ended up with the best end of the bargain.

He frowned at the thought suddenly, remembering the naked hunger in the King's eyes as he said Orlanus name slowly, thoughtfully. He wondered where the King had learned Latin and if he had been to Rome. He would have to ask; just as soon as he awoke from stupor he felt bearing down him.

He sat up and drew to the edge of the tub, reluctant to leave but fearing to drown from fatigue.

"Elly." He called the man softly. "Please, Elly, bed soon. I fear I'm already asleep." He smiled a tired smile and Elly, whether he understood or not, helped him from the barrel bath and into a large, soft cloth. He felt like a spoiled child and hummed, as he had not since leaving his mother's house.

Elly kept up his soft, one sided conversation and Orlanus found he liked the handsome young man's voice. And his eyes, he'd never seen eyes so blue. If he were not so clearly the king's man, Orlanus might have tried to bed him. He was exhausted, he must be because he was saying soft things now himself. Lulled by heat and soft care he leant his head onto Elly's shoulder, caressed his arm, lay limp as Elly dressed him in a warm tunic and leggings.

~~~~~~~~

When he woke, slowly and with great languor, he was tucked into a huge, deep, wide bed. In the curve of his belly was the soft white back of Elly, snug in his arms and behind him another warm presence who, he thought, must be Viggo.

He wanted nothing more than to lay here for the next ten-day but his bladder thought otherwise and he began to extricate himself from Elly and creep down the bed. He was on hands and knees, on the soft down cover, when the point of a dagger made itself known to his throat.

He froze, swallowing heavily. A soft prison, but a prison and no doubt.

"Where do you go, Roman?" His other bedpartner, not Viggo but the tall man from the clearing, asked him in a sleep-roughened voice. This one spoke Latin as well so Orlanus turned his head towards the man slowly and told him.

"I must relieve myself. Unless you wish to sleep in it with me?" Orlanus cocked an eyebrow at the man. To his credit, the man smiled and sheathed his knife.

"There is a garderrobe behind the door. There." He pointed then crossed his arms above his head, clearly intending to keep an eye on Orlanus the whole time.

"My bladder thanks you." Orlanus said and he crawled off the bed. The floor may have been cold but his feet were in footed wooly leggings with, he found, leather soles so he felt none of the chill. They were a little bit harder to navigate in the garderrobe, the long layers of tunic confounding his efforts. At last he did manage to free himself make use of the low ceramic chamberpot.

He made his way back to the bed, his quiet observer watching. Orlanus crawled back the way he'd left and only when he was neatly tucked under the cover did the tall man lay his dagger in its sheath on the small table by his head. Elly murmured in his sleep and snuggled back into the curve of Orlanus belly.

He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

~~~~~~~

"You, my Lord, have found something you were looking for." The Kings eldest advisor Ynn's voice drifted to Viggo from the doorway of his private chamber. "And I don't think you know quite what to do with it." The old man nodded and walked regally into the room to where Viggo was sitting. He leaned forward until he was looking directly into the King's eye and said, "Or should I say, 'Him'?"

Viggo had the grace to drop his gaze and smile wryly. Ynn's presence was a comfort to Viggo now his mother was dead. But beyond that, he had been a good friend and advisor.

Viggo stood and poured a cup of small beer for Ynn and another one for himself. Ynn accepted the cup gratefully and they sat in comfortable silence drinking and thinking. After a time, Viggo set his cup down and turned to his friend.

"I have done something," He paused, looking away and down, took a breath and continued. "My friend, I have no words for what's happened. He is," the King smiled again, "I am lost, old friend."

Ynn regarded the King with sympathy and returned his smile. After some thought he said,

"Viggo, you have given your life to this place, to these people. How is it that after all this time you could possibly think we wouldn't want your happiness?" Ynn fell silent. Then added, "This man, this roman, he is a man of honor. He will expect to be ransomed. That is the way of his people. If you want to keep him, I think you will have to win him, my Lord, as you have won Elly and Karl. You will have to make him want to stay."

Viggo nodded but remain silent. After a while he rose and went to the cupboard, removed the ivory and ebony board and small pieces and brought them back to the table. He set each piece on it's respective square and took one of each color in his hands and held them out to the older man. Ynn tapped Viggo's right hand to reveal the white piece.

Viggo replaced the pieces, turned the board so black was on his side and waited for Ynn to make the first move.

TBC~