Authors: L. M. Roth
The garden of Drusilla
Octavius’ magnificent estate in Lycenium was just putting forth the first
tender shoots of spring blossoms and new blades of grass. The robins had
returned, and would soon be joined by their feathered kin, and the air would
ring with their song. For now, the chirping of a pair of red robins was all to
be heard on the sunny April morning.
Marcus Maximus
strolled through the garden savoring the morning sunshine and the balmy air.
All of his life he had found solace in gardens, which to his mind was strange, as
so many of the unhappy instances of his life had taken place in them. He had
been seized and taken captive from the garden of his father’s estate in
Valerium. He had proposed to Tullia in this very garden so many years ago, only
to have his suit rejected due to his reduced circumstances. And only last
spring the arrival of Iacomus Cornelius in his garden in Valerium had signaled
the beginning of the persecution of the Alexandrians as he walked among them
and lulled them into his confidence.
How much of the
tenets of their faith had already been revealed to him through Decimus via
Antonius was still uncertain to Marcus. He had seen the boy on several
occasions over the winter, and to his own surprise, grew quite fond of him. That
I should ever live to like a child spawned by Decimus Hadrianus, he thought
wryly.
And yet, the
boy was every bit as gentle and naïve as Lucius said he was. He must be more
like his mother, Marcus thought. It was true that Paulina was quiet to the
point of invisibility and meek to the point of self-effacement when she wasn’t
perpetually making social gaffes, but perhaps marriage to Decimus had made her
that way. Perhaps she had once had a spark of life in her. For Antonius was
full of enthusiasms and inquisitive regarding matters of the intellect.
As he had
requested, Antonius did have a long discussion with Marcus regarding
Alexandros. All that he had heard was from Lucius, and as he was not
particularly devout, it came as little surprise to his father that his friend
knew only the elementary rudiments.
“I am curious,
sir,” Antonius had said, “why Alexandros had to die. Was there no other way for
man to earn salvation? Could he not atone in his own manner, and win approval
from Dominio?”
“No, Antonius,
for the very nature of mankind was altered when Tychon and Chloe rejected
Dominio’s rule in favor of ruling themselves. We became infected with the pride
of Leon, who rebelled against Dominio and led a host against Him to attempt to
take His throne. It was a matter of our wanting to be God ourselves, rather
than simple disobedience.
“Allow me to
give you an illustration that may simplify the explanation: let us say that you
are told by your father not to take a particular book from his library. You are
curious about the book, but you wish to obey your father so you leave it alone.
However, a friend who is consistently disobedient to his own father visits you
one day, and he informs you that you do not need to listen to your father, or
subject yourself to his rule because you are old enough to decide what to do
for yourself.
“You listen to
your friend and take the book, but it is not because you are curious about why
it is forbidden to you: you take the book to show your father that you do not
need to submit to his authority. You see, it is in the motive rather than the
act that caused the Fall of Man. Tychon and Chloe disobeyed not out of
curiosity, but because they wished to rule themselves as being equal to God,
and that is treason, an offense punishable by death, in this instance, eternal
death. They gave their allegiance to Leon and shared in his crimes against
Dominio. Leon had been cast out of Heaven, and Man was forbidden to enter it,
because he rejected Dominio as God, making it impossible for him to share
eternity with Dominio.
“And that is
why Alexandros came; He took our punishment for the crime of treason so we may
share eternity with Dominio. Does this make sense to you, Antonius?”
Antonius
looked at Marcus with grave and thoughtful eyes. He appeared deep in meditation
and cocked his head to the side, as though listening to something that only he
could hear.
“Yes,” he said
at last as he nodded his head slowly, “it
does
make sense. And much more
sense than the gods that my mother gives obeisance to. I do not know of any
answers to prayer that she has ever received from them, yet she gives
sacrifices to them daily.”
He turned to
look Marcus full in the eye.
“Will you pray
with me? And instruct me further? For I
do
wish to follow Alexandros!
All that I have heard of Him makes me love Him, although I do not yet
understand everything there is to know of Him.”
Marcus smiled
with genuine tenderness at the boy, and his heart overflowed with joy. A new
convert, always a cause for rejoicing! And that it should be the son of his old
enemy was surely one of the great ironies of life!
He put an arm
around Antonius’ shoulder and they bowed their heads to pray, Antonius in his
own words asking Alexandros to take habitation in his heart and lead him day by
day. He was quickly filled with the Spirit of Dominio, and quite unexpectedly,
began to weep. His tears were quiet, yet they streamed down his face like a
flow from a fountain that could not be stopped.
Antonius
apologized to Marcus and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. It was
true that the men of Valeriun Empire did not like to show their emotion, but
surely Antonius could be excused for weeping during the most important moment
of his life. Marcus told him so, and the boy shot him a glance of gratitude.
That was the
beginning. Antonius began to come to the weekly meetings of the local
Alexandrians, which Marcus and Tullia also attended. Lucius came reluctantly,
and Marcus had been informed soon after their arrival that his son had
frequently absented himself from the meetings, and only resumed attending after
the advent of his parents to Lycenium.
Marcus was
sorry to hear this, and wished that his only son were more devout. Why could he
not be more like Felicia? His daughter was wholly committed to Dominio and to
spreading the Kingdom of Heaven; why could his son not be the same?
Marcus found
himself wondering what would happen when the time came to collect Felicia from
Solone. He did not anticipate an easy time of it, despite his daughter’s
promise to please her mother by a season in Lycenium. He could not picture the
girl in Lycenium, but Tullia would not be dissuaded. That they would clash once
again like opponents in the arena he fully anticipated when the time came to
bring her home.
His musings
were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned around to
find that Decimus was ambling toward him as though he had nothing but time on
his hands. Marcus was irritated at his presence: he still heartily detested the
man and it was with difficulty that he showed civility to him when forced to
interact with him due to the friendship of their sons.
As if guessing
his thoughts, Decimus bestowed on him an insolent sneer that revealed the
loathing Marcus felt for him was mutual.
“Ho!” Decimus
drawled. “Enjoying the sunshine? It is indeed a fine day to sniff flowers,
although some men would prefer more masculine employment!”
The veneer of
civility in Marcus suddenly snapped.
“What do you
want, Decimus? Surely you must realize that the only reason you are invited to
our home is because of your son’s friendship with mine, and not because you are
truly welcomed by myself or my wife.”
He emphasized
the words “my wife” and permitted himself the luxury of a threatening glare at
Decimus. He was rewarded by a murderous glower from Decimus.
Were I not an
Alexandrian I would have killed him long ago, Marcus mused in a sudden simmer
of repressed rage. But killing is forbidden by Dominio, otherwise I would have
dispatched this scum long since for what he did to Felix and Tullia…
“I shall take
care to remember that, Maximus,” Decimus snarled in a voice hardly louder than
a whisper, yet the tone inspired Marcus with a sudden fear. “Were it not for my
son I would not lower myself to enter your house; you the son of a man who died
a prisoner of the Empress after being abased and denounced as a traitor!”
“Take care,
Decimus! The only reason I have not slit your throat before now is because it
is forbidden by my faith. You deserve death for the suffering and pain you have
caused. Had your father not been Governor of Lycenium you would have been punished
severely, even put to death, for murdering a man in cold blood.”
Decimus
flinched for just a moment, a shadow crossing his face, and just as quickly
gone. He recovered his bravado so rapidly that Marcus wondered it he had
imagined it.
“Not so; your friend
lifted his hand to stop me and came between me and…” his voice trailed off.
Marcus knew
that he would have said “Tullia” had he been speaking to anyone but her
husband. Dominio or no, I must draw some boundaries, he thought.
“Know this,
Decimus,” he growled in a voice as savage as that of a lion had it found the
ability to speak, “if you ever lift a hand against my wife again, I will
dispatch you to Hell myself and face Dominio afterward. It may damn my soul,
but you shall not harm her in any way. I shall see to that!”
Decimus swayed
slightly on his feet, his face changing color from an angry red to an ashen
gray that resembled the residue left after a volcanic eruption. Marcus had
once, on his travels with his father as a boy, seen a body that had been
petrified after just such an occurrence: it looked hollow and a caricature of
something that had once been vital and breathing. Decimus looked remarkably
like that now.
“I am warning
you,” Marcus continued. “I shall not forbid this friendship between your son
and mine. In truth, I do like your son very much. He is a fine young man, and must
be like his mother, rather than having any resemblance to you. But if you ever
harm my family in any way, it will be the death of you.”
Lucius
stretched his arms lazily over his head as he roused himself from slumber. What
should he do today? He did not retire until late the night before, but he told
himself that the day was too fine to waste it indoors. Perhaps he should call
on Antonius and interest him in going to a play at the amphitheater. It would
be a perfect day for it: not too warm and not a cloud in the sky to bring rain
that would hamper the production. There was a particularly fine drama playing
now of a curse that plagued a patrician family due to a murder committed and
hidden long ago.
He thought of
the history his father had related to him a few months ago. It was hard to
believe it was entirely true, yet he did sense at times that Decimus was
something of a bully. Certainly Antonius had slipped and related that his
mother feared doing anything that would embarrass or displease him. That
accounted for her mousy personality and the air of being afraid of her own
shadow, Lucius thought.
He was glad
that his mother had made every effort to make Paulina feel welcome on the
occasions that the family dined together. She was soon at ease with the Maximus
family and visibly relaxed in their company. Such was not true on the days that
Lucius visited the Hadrianus estate. Paulina was reduced to a quivering mass of
timidity with a backbone that had all of the firmness of a jellyfish afloat on
the surface of the sea. At such times he was proud of his own mother, and her
perfect composure in the presence of Decimus who had shamed and tormented her,
if his father’s account was to be believed.
He shrugged
his shoulders; it was too lovely a day to think on such heavy matters, buried
in the long distant past. Such did a span of twenty odd years seem to one who
had only known a mere nineteen. He quickly washed his face and investigated his
cupboard to select a robe that would be suitable for an outing at the
amphitheater. It would not do to wear something too fine that would suffer the
indignity of collecting the fine grains of dirt that were permanently embedded
in the stone seats. But, what could one expect if one wanted to enjoy such
amusements out of doors?
When he
presented himself at the Hadrianus estate, he was informed that Antonius was
slightly under the weather and under no circumstances would be going anywhere today.
Lucius felt a twinge of disappointment: he had so looked forward to the first
presentation of the season at the amphitheater. Of course, he could still go
alone, but decided to visit his friend and cheer his solitude instead.
Antonius did
indeed look pale and lethargic. It was nothing, said he, probably just due to
the fine spring weather. He usually did suffer a fever of some sort at this
time of year. But how good of Lucius to stop by and offer his company! It was
very good of him, truly it was!
They spent
some time in idle conversation, discussing nothing of any particular
importance, simply enjoying the time spent in one another’s company. Lucius had
not completely closed the door behind him, as leaving it slightly ajar
permitted the refreshing breeze that originated from the atrium to circulate
through the villa to enter the room. A waft of spring blossoms came with it and
Antonius inhaled appreciatively.
“Spring! Is
there any lovelier season, do you think?” he sighed and burrowed slightly down
into his bedcovers. “Would that I could walk by the river and enjoy it!”
Lucius
chuckled in agreement. Yes, spring had always been his favorite season as well.
The time of renewal, of second chances, his mother called it. And it did seem
true at times; why anything was possible on a glorious April day!
After a time
Antonius turned the conversation to his favorite topic, the Alexandrians and
last night’s meeting which, he noted in a reproachful tone of voice, Lucius had
failed to attend.
“You really
should have come, Lucius,” he upbraided his friend. “It was a wonderful time
and your mother was used by Dominio to heal many who were there.”
“Yes, I
suppose I should have been,” Lucius agreed with a sigh. “But the night was so
fair and who could bear to be confined indoors on such an evening. Certainly
not I!”
Antonius shook
his head and gave his friend a glance of concern mingled with rue.
“Whatever
shall become of you, Lucius? You can not spend all of your life playing like
the grasshopper. Remember what happened to him during the winter after he
played all the summer!”
“Oh, come now,
do not preach at me: I am in no mood for it! As for what will become of me, I
expect that one day I shall have played long enough and I shall become my
father’s good boy and carry on the family business, which at present means to
become a leader of the Alexandrians. It is my fate; I can not escape it.”
“But how can
you become a leader when you do not choose to prepare?” Antonius asked him.
“You can not assume that you will lead the Alexandrians simply because you are
the son of Marcus Maximus. We are taught to prepare for leadership as
diligently as a soldier trains for warfare. And I do not see you carrying any
sword into battle, Lucius.”
Lucius
bestowed a sly smile upon his friend, and his lips curled upward almost in an
overabundance of self-confidence.
“But, I
shall
have a sword, Antonius! You should see the Sword that I shall carry; for there
is none like it in the world. And it shall be mine upon the death of my father.
He has told me so, for it will be my legacy from him.”
Antonius
puckered his forehead and gazed with concern upon his friend. Did Lucius not
hear a word that was said to him? Why must he always turn everything to a joke?
“What is this
you speak of so lightly, Lucius? For it does not seem to me that you
particularly value your legacy if you have not even bothered to prepare for the
day when it shall be yours.”
Lucius laughed
aloud.
“Good
Antonius! There is naught to worry about! I shall have my father’s Sword, one
that he has prized since the days of his youth. It is called Logos, and it is
the most beautiful Sword you have ever seen! But, it must never be used in
violence, my father says. That was the word of admonition that was spoken to
him when it was presented to him as a gift.”
“But, I do not
understand,” Antonius remarked, “why can you not use it? Is that not what a
sword is for; to carry into battle?”
“This Sword is
special, Antonius. For when you have need of an answer to a dilemma, the
solution will appear on its blade. It is true; do not look at me like that! I
have seen it with my own eyes; words appear on the blade when you ask it a
question. And you are to do what the words tell you to do.”
“That is
astounding! I should love to see this Sword, Lucius. Do you think if I asked
your father that he would show it to me?”
“He might,”
said Lucius with an air of complacence. “But as you are confined to your bed,
perhaps I could bring it tomorrow and show it to you myself. I am sure there
would be no harm.”
“Oh, I should
love that, Lucius! Tomorrow then!”
“Tomorrow
then!”
So absorbed
were they in their conversation that they did not see the shadow that darkened
the slight gap in the door, nor hear the trod of a stealthy step that just as
quickly faded from their hearing.