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After Ardaric became king, better times followed for our family. Our men didn’t go to war as often anymore, they had more time for working the land, tending to the animals, and in general, for household duties. This way, my husband managed to teach our youngest children how to wield a sword, shoot with a bow, and harness horses. I was very glad that he was the first to make a toast at the banquet held in honour of our daughter’s wedding.
Even though calmer years followed, the shadow of war didn’t completely disappear. We still fought with the other tribes that had also been conquered by the Huns, but which now had their own kings. Of all these tribes, the worst were the Ostrogoths, who always found reasons to fight with the other tribes. That’s how I lost Gunderit, my oldest son. He had barely turned 18 when our army was sent near the river Bolia to help the Sciri and the others fighting by their side against the Ostrogoths. This time we lost the battle, and we lost a child. It was the darkest time of my life. I’d rather not talk about it anymore...