The Amber Road by Harry Sidebottom

Author:Harry Sidebottom [Sidebottom, Harry]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
ISBN: 9780141935287
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2013-07-17T22:00:00+00:00

XIX

The Vistula Delta

Snakes were everywhere on this river, big fuckers, absolutely fucking everywhere. Maximus knew he should get some rest. There would be none to be had tonight. But in this dismal marsh it was hard to find a place where a snake could not get at you. Most of the crew had stretched out on the bank near the hut, dozing in the sun. That was just asking for trouble. The snakes could swim, and the boat had a low freeboard, so that was no good either. The idea of a pointed black head, forked tongue flicking, eyes full of malice, sliding over the gunnels, thick, grey body coiling after, slithering up while you slept, all defenceless, was too horrible to contemplate. Fuck, he hated snakes.

Maximus could not settle. He went and sat with Ballista. One of the half-witted Harii, the taller one, was droning on about one of his relatives who was a shape-changer. When the fellow went to sleep his spirit roamed the woods in the form of a bear. Absolute fucking nonsense. Perhaps the Greeks and Romans, like that little shite Zeno over there, were right and northern barbarians were stupid beyond belief. Of course, the southerners did not know much about Hibernians. Not many of them came to the island, and quite a few that did had not been alive to leave.

Some cannabis would have been good. But with the gods knew how many longboats full of Brondings combing the delta there could be no lighting a fire. Cold food and no cannabis: it was going to be a long day. It seemed an eternity since he had had a woman. Now the other of the Harii, the short-arsed one, was talking about another relative. Apparently this one wore women’s clothing to help him communicate with whatever benighted gods haunted the forest. It appeared that holding a horse’s severed cock helped the process. Maximus had had enough of this.

Saying he would stand watch, Maximus left. Having collected some things from his pack on the boat, he made his way to where the creek divided. It was hard going, mud sucking at his boots. He used his sword to probe the reeds for snakes. You could never be too careful.

Rikiar thanked him, and went back. At least the Vandal did not yap like an old woman; not like those Harii. Actually, he was too quiet. He needed watching. If he stole anything from Maximus, it would be more than a few mutton bones around his ears the fucker would be getting.

Maximus hunkered down with Tarchon to watch. The Suanian took his duties seriously and was quiet. The water was still, black in the sun. The reeds meant you could not see far. It was more a matter of listening.

From nowhere came a feeling of loneliness. Maximus missed Calgacus. Odd, he never had when the miserable, ugly bastard was alive. The old Caledonian might have moaned the whole fucking time, but you could trust him. Not like a light-fingered Vandal or a couple of superstitious Harii.

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