The general's night was disturbed by a sinister and alarming dream: for he imagined that he saw Quintilius Varus risen, blood-bedraggled, from the marsh, and heard him calling, though he refused to obey and pushed him back when he extended his hand.
- Tacitus, Annals, Book 1

The castle was very dark and completely empty that night. The two kings still had not announced their decision on Johan and Sabina's fates. Peewit and Barbara had gone to bed, but Maenad stayed awake and stalked the damp hallways of the castle. Her nightmares had returned, and she was concerned for the welfare of her friends, though she was disturbed as to why she had become so wrapped up in the lives of these particular humans, when she had seen so many others live, love, die and be exiled without a twinge of sorrow. Not since Secundus, anyway. Oh, gods, Secundus…she remembered now. How much she'd loved him, and what had happened to him, and all the men they were with…

She went to the main hall, where a fire was dying in the hearth and Edelhart sat on a low stool, intently polishing his sword. She walked to where he was, knelt on the bearskin rug in front of him, folding her hands in her lap, and saying nothing. He looked up for a second, then went back to sliding the stone over the longsword.

She was staring at him again. Motionless, like a predator about to pounce. She had been doing that a lot in the past couple of days. Why? Maybe so much time had passed since she'd been human that she was unaware of how disturbing that was. He sighed. But she had put herself at risk defending his son, and stood up for him when Barbara was in a rage. She might be the only one on Johan's side, besides Peewit.

Why should anyone take Johan's side? He'd made a fool of himself, dishonored his vows, and brought shame on both of them. And Edelhart had let him know it, not that scolding the boy did any good now. For the first time, he was glad Yvette was not around to see what had become of him. He remembered the ring on Sabina's finger, the one he thought looked like Yvette's, because it was the exact same ring. He should have known; he could have put an end to all this in relative privacy. Instead Edelhart would have to watch his only child be banished. He felt as if he was about to lose everything for the second time in his life, and he was too old now to do anything about it. He laid his head on the tapestry behind him, and frowned back at the werewolf.

"You have an Ulfberht sword," Maenad finally spoke.

"How do you know that?" She referred to the word +ULFBERH+T inlaid on the blade, close to the hilt.

"My old…master…had one. Well, a fake one, anyway. I never told him it was a fake, of course. Werewolves don't use swords much; he mostly kept it as a trophy." And really, if Fenris had his fake sword snap in battle, she would not have cared. Better he think it was made of the finest steel known. Only a king or chieftain would have owned the real thing.

"This was my father's sword. It's the only thing I took with me after he was killed. All I had time to claim, really, before I was forced to flee. I was going to pass it on to Johan…"

"I'm sorry. I know how you must feel."

"Do you?"

"I do…I had a daughter, you know. I watched over her and her children…even after…this happened to me."

Edelhart sat up, suddenly interested. Maenad had never talked about her family to anyone before. Except for the Bactrian Princess story, and she had confided to him after they were dismissed that her grandmother was the daughter of the Bactrian King's fourteenth son's second favorite concubine. He'd heard that she'd been married from Johan, but as she looked like she'd been turned around age twenty, he supposed that was a given.

"My grandson, Secundus, he and I were in the military together. Well, most men in my family were in the military, but Secundus was like the son I never had. The last campaign we went on, I would have given my life to save him…but…obviously I couldn't…" Her voice was a low whisper. She was trying not to lose herself in the past again. Why was she telling this man who'd once tried to kill her these things?

"You would have liked him." She looked again at Edelhart, and saw a trace of familiarity flicker across his features again. "He looked a lot like you."

Her eyes grew wide, as if she's suddenly remembered something else important. She shook her head and began to rub her tied eyes.

No, it couldn't be. Lavinia's other children stayed in Britain, it was true, and she assumed they eventually married among the native people there. But this family? The odds were too great, that was too long ago. Why did he look so damn familiar to her, though? Blood sings to blood…her words were coming back to haunt her.

"Something you said this afternoon concerns me."

"What would that be?" Maenad was barely paying attention to him by this point.

"You said you can taste royal blood. Is that true? Can all your...people...do that?"

"No, only vampires can do that. They claim they can, anyway. I've never wanted to be near enough one to find out."

She can't, but vampires can. There are vampires. Wonderful.

"You lied in court."

"Not for the first time. Are you going to go tell the King?"

"No."

I got the inspiration for this after watching a documentary on Viking swords, where a blacksmith in Wisconsin made a replica Ulfberht sword. They are fascinatingly enigmatic, with a Frankish name and crosses indicating it was made by the Church, but found mostly with Vikings, and and made of crucible steel, a very pure, durable steel that was only available in Central Asia. Europeans would not have the ability to make such steel until the Industrial Revolution. They were like the Armani handbags of the time, and like designer handbags, many fakes of poor quality metal were produced. We actually have more fakes today than genuine Ulfberht swords. They can be distinguished by a difference in inscription: real ones read +ULFBERH+T and fake ones read +ULFBERHT+, leading scholars to believe that the fakes were made by illiterate people for illiterate people.