Horsa stared ahead, his vision swimming in and out of focus because of his damaged eye. Not that there was anything to see. He listened to the meaningless babble that poured incessantly from his brother's mind. From time to time, he answered.
Raziel would not let us die like this, Hengest posed without conviction. If he knew, he would come. He would take us away...
I doubt Raziel even remembers us, my heart, Horsa answered, and tried to turn his mind away from his twin's deepening madness. He almost wished Hengest would fall unconcious again. Although the silence had been unsettling, and made him feel more lonely than he had ever felt before, this was really no better.
Kain would come! He can fly though the night on wings of darkness, they say he can walk on water as if it was solid sand! He will set them on fire, burn them, burn them...
Hengest would not last much longer. Horsa was fighting a losing battle against starvation himself, and Hengest had suffered much graver wounds than he. And lost his hand. It still lay on the rough wooden floor, dry and wrinkled like a dead animal. None of the villagers dared touch it, and they had not seen Oswald in nights.
Suddenly, Hengest's rasping voice broke the welcome silence. "Lord Kain, by your blood, which flows through my veins..."
Horsa cursed aloud, softly but with real feeling. The twins had never turned to Kain in prayer, as some of their companions did. They thought it a sign of weakness, though Hengest had apparently forgotten this.
"Although there's not much left of it I must admit..." Hengest continued, and coughed loudly.
Horsa sniggered.
I don't even know how the rest of it goes! Hengest complained, and coughed again. "Kain," he rasped feverishly, "get off your mighty festering throne to this faithless village and raze it to the ground! Burn!" I want to die... he added silently.
Horsa swallowed. His mouth was dry and his eyes stung. For over three centuries, he had shared every waking moment with his brother. Anders had raised them together, and some said he had only used a single soul to animate two bodies. Horsa was unsure if he could outlive Hengest, but the thought that he might find out soon chilled him to the bone.
Anders stared at the hairy, torch-bearing multitude on the other bank. A week had passed, it was almost midnight. The stars overhead looked bright, but cold. The humans carried something to the water's edge, two large, unwieldy wooden constructions. With a shock, he realised his sons were bound onto these, two long beams fastened in the shape of an X, their limbs spread out, their heads hanging limply. They looked already dead.
The lower ends of the beams hit the river bank and sank into the mud a ways. They were held up vertically, ready to be toppled into the water. Oswald waded towards the rock unhurriedly, with a savage kind of dignity to his movements. He stood tall, lit from behind by the torches, the fur of his massive collar rippling in the wind.
Anders looked at Hengest and Horsa. Neither gave any sign of life, both looked grievously wounded. If they were dead, would he take back Raziel's offer?
"Human!" he roared above the sound of the river. "What are you playing at, your prisoners are already dead!"
"Vampire," Oswald answered, and bowed. He turned to the men behind him. "Mak dem wake!" he shouted. "Mak dem screien fur sie warman!" The humans started to jostle the prisoners, while the band of vampires on the other shore looked on with uneasy expressions. Suddenly, the fair-haired Hengest began to scream, and struggle fruitlessly on the wooden cross. His screams were meaningless, mostly wordless. There was a ripple of whispers through Anders' small army.
"Anders!" It was Horsa's voice, loud but broken. "Anders! Forgive us!"
Anders breathed out, slowly. Hengest, mad, and Horsa seemed not much better. Yet, they lived. He raised the leather scrollcase in his hand.
"I have here," he started, loudly, "a deed of land, signed by Raziel, Son of Kain, Lord of these lands." The human savages went quiet, and he wondered how much of his language they understood. Above the roar of the water, Hengest's high-pitched wails still continued. Horsa had lifted his head and looked at Anders across the breadth of the ford, frowning as if he did not understand what was happening. Anders realised he was almost blind. "It grants you," he continued, "Oswald, leader of the savage human tribe, the village of Tottery. You may live there, build within the confines of the village, and till the fields surrounding the village. You will be excempt from taxes, and safe from harm."
"Vampire," Oswald said, grinning broadly, "this is a joyous day for both of us. Your Lord will not regret giving us this."
"Your prisoners, Human," Anders reminded him.
Oswald turned around on his rock. "Die vampiri hat us lahnd gegeben!" he shouted exultantly. The crowd erupted in shouting and cheering. "Get dessa tow to andres ower," Oswald growled with a generous sweep of his arm. His men started to haul up the great crosses again, under the general cheering and the shouts of their leader. Slowly, carrying the crosses on their shoulders, they started to wade across the stream.
Anders waved a hand to his left, where the men would reach his shore. "Jules," he said, keeping his eyes firmly on the men crossing the stream, and Oswald, who seemed busy preaching to his followers. The vampires stood back from the shore to allow the humans to land, and put down the crosses. The noises from the other side of the ford sounded distant and drowned out, as the prisoners changed hands without any words, the vampires and humans both wary of each other. But the humans retreated, and Jules opened the first of the bottles they had brought, and emptied it between Horsa's dry and broken lips. Hengest had lost conciousness once again.
One of the carriers turned to Anders, and was handed the deed of land. He did not bow, and was not bowed to. Anders eyed him calmly. Even outside of battle, these men looked like wild animals. They were not like the rest of the herd. He wondered how well they would fare as farmers.
Oswald received the deed and read it by the light of a single torch. It was not long, Lord Raziel had kept the terms as simple as possible, on Anders' insistance. He was somewhat impressed that Oswald could read. He allowed himself a glance at the unfortunate twins. They had both been freed, Horsa was drinking greedily from a skin of mixed blood, Hengest was pinned to the ground and fed, he was thrashing around blindly. Anders feared he would have to be tied again, perhaps for several days while the bloodfever ebbed away, if it did at all. With something close to anger, he turned back to Oswald.
"Vampire, your Lord's terms are agreeable. We accept."
"Then come here so we may shake hands upon it." He stepped forward by four paces, trusting in the special skin boots to keep his feet dry, as he had done so many times before. Oswald came forward, the leather case in his hand. Anders offered a strong, three-fingered hand, and Oswald accepted, but was pulled off balance by Anders who grabbed him by his fur collar with his other hand. "You starved them to within an inch of their lives," he hissed, staring hard into Oswald's surprised eyes.
"It is hard enough to find food for our own, Vampire," Oswald started.
" Shut up!" He stared into Oswald's small, dark eyes for a few moments. "Now that we are all peace-loving men, you will not be needing this!" He yanked at Oswald's necklace of vampire bones, and it came loose. He flung it onto the shore behind him in disgust. His face regained its usual calm as he slowly returned Oswald to his feet and released his grip. "We will surely meet again, sir," he said. "Let us hope it will not be as enemies."
