Authors: L. M. Roth
Marcus thanked
Paulina and enquired after Antonius. He was well, quite well, she told him.
Good, very
good, Marcus replied. Because he was about to leave on a journey and required a
traveling companion. He would have taken Lucius had he been at home, but as
Antonius was such a good friend of the family he would like to take him in his
son’s place.
Paulina smiled
ingratiatingly and asked Otho to send for Antonius to come at once. It did not
take him long to arrive, and when he did Marcus greeted him with a warm smile.
He casually
walked around the atrium, talking to his guests until he stood before the door
of the little room where Felicia was still imprisoned. He turned to face
Antonius as though he did not have a care in the world.
“Antonius,” he
said, “I am leaving today on a rather long journey and require a traveling
companion. It has always been my policy that no journey should be undertaken
without a companion lest one encounter illness or injury on the road and
assistance should be needed. If my son were here I would have him accompany me.
As he is not, I wish to engage your services instead.”
Marcus noted
that the young man turned a little pale, but gulped and regained his composure
quickly.
He would be
delighted, he assured Marcus hastily, to accompany him. Most gladly would he
serve him!
“Thank you, my
son. I shall be packed and ready in no time. I would advise you to send at once
for your things and be ready in an hour’s time.”
Marcus raised
his voice loud enough for his daughter to hear.
“Felicia will
be most grieved to discover that I am leaving again so soon after my arrival
and with her mother and brother still away. But I am sure she will be relieved
to know that I am not going alone.”
He then beamed
a dazzling smile upon his secret son-in-law and enjoyed the young man’s
discomfort.
“I know just
how delighted she will be when she hears that you are coming with me.”
They were on
the road within an hour. Paulina had been flustered at the urgency with which
Marcus had commandeered her son to accompany him on his sudden journey, but she
obliged him and said she would be sure to call on Drusilla so that she should
not be too lonely in the absence of most of the family. And she was so looking
forward to meeting his daughter, for Antonius had mentioned to her last night
that she had returned from her travels. Marcus did not comment on that remark.
They soon left
Lycenium behind them and headed east for the uttermost edge of the Empire.
Marcus had never been to Lucerna, but it was a land that intrigued him, and one
he wished to visit. How he might have enjoyed this expedition were it not for
the necessity behind it!
Antonius was
very quiet as they rode along. Marcus felt that horses would be quicker than a
cumbersome carriage that would hamper their speed, and so he and Antonius
packed lightly, taking only what was needed. Marcus had Otho prepare some food,
and he supplied them with plenty of dried fruit, cheese, and bread, the staples
that Marcus took on any journey that might require him to make his accommodation
on the road.
In spite of
the need to find Tullia, and the unresolved situation with Felicia, he found
his heart lighten as they left Lycenium behind them and they headed into the
wild. How he missed his younger days, so filled with adventure! It had been far
too long since the last time he had taken to the open road, leaving his
destination to chance and the leading of Dominio.
He noted that
Antonius appeared somewhat somber and that the young man cast many furtive
glances in his direction. Marcus decided, however, to save conversation for
stops on the road.
At the end of
the first day they found a small copse of trees set well back from the road
that would provide shelter. Marcus signaled to Antonius to stop, and when they
had tied their horses to a couple of trunks they prepared to make camp for the
night. Over their meal Marcus at last allowed the luxury of conversation.
He decided to
wait and confront Antonius about his secret marriage to Felicia until they were
back on the road from Lucerna. He did not wish to risk having the young man fly
from him back to Felicia and perhaps run away with her. It was all Marcus
could do to restrain himself from upbraiding the young man, but in this case
silence was the wisest course.
Antonius,
however, surprised him on the very first evening.
“Sir,” he
began hesitantly, and cleared his throat.
Marcus looked
at him searchingly and seeing the questioning look in the young man’s eyes,
felt his heart begin to beat its strange pounding once more.
“Sir,” Antonius
began again, “there is something I must tell you.”
“Yes?” Marcus
queried.
“I respect and
admire you sir, and therefore I feel I must be honest with you about something.
Something I have done.”
Marcus waited.
Antonius
cleared his throat again, and surveyed the ground at his feet before
continuing.
“I, I…I
married your daughter, sir,” he sputtered and suddenly coughed. “It was very
sudden and very secret, and I know we should have told our parents. But we did
not. I take full responsibility, sir.”
He stared at
Marcus and turned red, and then pale, and then red again. Then he gazed at
Marcus questioningly.
“You know,” he
stated.
“I got it out
of Felicia after you left last night,” Marcus admitted. “Why did you think I
demanded that you accompany me? I think it best to keep the two of you apart
until my wife and your parents have been informed.”
Antonius
reddened again, but took the rebuke with good grace.
“I am sorry,
sir,” he said softly, then his words came out in a rush of emotion. “But I love
your daughter so much! She is the best thing that has ever happened to me, the
greatest joy I have ever known! Please say you will give us your blessing,
sir.”
Marcus
continued to stare at Antonius with the same unflinching gaze until the young
man dropped his eyes.
Were it not
for Decimus and how angry I know Tullia will be I would give my blessing, he
thought. For I truly do love this young man and think he will be an excellent
match for my daughter.
“I am sorry,
Antonius. I am not free to give you my blessing until I have consulted with my
wife. And I am searching for her at the moment.
Your
wife will have to
wait for now.”
When they
entered Lucerna, Marcus was astounded by the incredible beauty of the land. He
had heard it said that it was lovely beyond belief, but he did not believe
everything he heard, rumor having been wrong far too often. Now as he beheld
the vast mountain ranges and inhaled the crisp pure air, and glimpsed clear
lakes he held his breath, certain that if he exhaled it would blow away the
land below him as it would a puff of smoke.
Antonius also
seemed entranced by the village below them. His face beamed with quiet
appreciation and he turned his head this way and that as if to take in
everything at once.
Two guards
asked their business and admitted them when they heard the name Maximus. Even
now, Marcus thought, the name of his father was legendary. A thought struck him
suddenly.
“And this is
Antonius Hadrianus,” he announced to them. “Perhaps you are familiar with his
uncle who lives here in your splendid land.”
They looked at
him blankly, and then turned to each other and shot questioning gazes. Shaking
their heads they turned back to Marcus.
“We have no
one by that name in Lucerna. No one at all.”
Dirk was not
satisfied with his sister’s explanation. He and Judoc bade Dag rest and they
left the room with Nolwenn in order to question her regarding the potion that
had nearly killed her father.
When he
questioned Nolwenn he got only sobs and cries of ‘It isn’t my fault, it isn’t
my fault,’ over and over until he at last shook her by the arms and slapped her
across the face. This dire action appeared to have some salutary effect on the
girl, who snapped out of her hysteria and sat down in a chair to collect
herself. Her sobs gradually died down and she told him and Judoc all that had
happened. It was a strange tale indeed.
Nolwenn had
watched her father suffer with a cold that seemed rapidly getting worse and
wished to help him. She had gone on her own accord to the wise woman who sold
herbs and asked for a healing potion for Dag. The old woman, whose name was
Yuna, gave her a potion that she told Nolwenn would cure Dag of his cold. The
girl was then subjected to intense questioning.
No, she did
not know what was in the potion; she did not ask. Yes, she came straight from
Yuna’s small hut to give the potion to her father. No, wait, she did not; she
had first stopped at Melisande’s to give her a packet of herbs that she had
requested from Yuna to help with her sickness from carrying the child. Yuna
told her that Melisande requested it but she did not have it available when she
requested as it had not yet bloomed for the season, and as Nolwenn was going
that direction anyway she could deliver it to her.
Dirk felt a
surge of alarm as Nolwenn related this account and exchanged an uneasy glance
with his mother. Judoc appeared to share his thought but said nothing in front
of Nolwenn. She merely asked the distraught girl whether she had spent much
time at Melisande’s, and what they talked of.
Nolwenn said
she delivered the packet of herbs to Melisande, and when Melisande wished to
take them at once, had volunteered to go and fetch water for her to take with
them. She told Melisande that she could not stay and visit long because she had
a healing potion for her father and she must give it to him as soon as
possible.
Judoc’s eyes
widened until they appeared to be blue pools in a quiet autumn wood, an
impression enhanced by the coppery curls that gently framed her face and rested
on her brow, and she gulped almost convulsively. She recovered herself and
asked her daughter if she had mentioned the healing potion to Melisande
before
or
after
she went to fetch water for her.
Nolwenn
scrunched up her nose as she pondered on her mother’s question. She fetched the
water before she mentioned the potion, she said. But no, she exclaimed, she
mentioned the potion
first
because she informed Melisande that she was
delivering some herbs to her from Yuna that she gave her when she visited her
to buy a healing potion for her father. Melisande thanked her and said she
wished to take the herbs at once, but she had not filled her pitcher with water
yet that morning so it would have to wait until she visited the spring. Nolwenn
had volunteered to do this for her so that she could take the herbs at once.
Judoc and Dirk
listened to this account and glanced furtively at one another.
Would
Melisande have slipped something into the potion, Dirk wondered. Did she have
such herbs in her cupboard, and manipulated Nolwenn into leaving the room so
she could poison the healing potion? The thought made him shiver with horror.
He realized
suddenly that he had never fully trusted his sister-in-law. It was true that
she was quite pretty, and he could understand why Brenus had fallen for her so
quickly. Her soft femininity and a certain foreign quality about her were very
attractive. But as young as Dirk was he detected a sly quality in Melisande. He
had been old enough to understand what was going on when Cort left home last
autumn over the quarrel with Brenus, and he had kept his eyes open ever since.
He had been
present the evening Judoc invited her to visit the family, and she had been
informed of the departure of Cort with his wife and mother. Never had Dirk seen
such an expression of pure rage ignite the face of anyone. Had smoke erupted
from Melisande’s nostrils he would not have been surprised. For a moment she
literally could not speak. When she recovered, the words spewed out like venom
from the mouth of a cobra.
“What!” she
erupted. “When did that happen? Why was I not told?”
She banged a
fist down on the table, causing the plates and trenchers to jump in the
violence of her action.
Maelys turned
a look upon her sister-in-law that was every bit as venomous as Melisande’s.
“We did not
wish to upset you, Melisande,” she uttered in a voice that was so modulated and
even of tone that Dirk knew Maelys was attempting to control her own anger. “We
all
know how fond you are of Cort, and none of us wished to distress
you. Especially when you are carrying the child of your dearly beloved
husband.”
She said this
last with a stifled snicker that tempted Dirk to laugh openly, but he knew that
would only serve to heap coals on the flame of Melisande’s fury. Melisande
glared at Maelys with eyes narrowed to slits, and she clenched her jaw so
tightly that the veins in her neck stood out. Maelys merely smiled at her in
open triumph at how neatly Cort had evaded the noose of his sister-in-law’s
constant attempts to trap him into forced conversation with her.
Judoc cleared
her throat in a silent warning to Maelys that Dirk knew was a rebuke for poor
manners in baiting Melisande. His sympathy on this occasion, however, was for
Maelys. Also for his sister-in-law Siv who had had to endure the barely
concealed hostility of Melisande during her stay in Eirinia.
Maelys wisely
took the hint, but could not resist one last taunt.
“Of course, we
all miss Siv and Brit as well. I do not think Cort could have found in all the
world a wife for him as perfect as Siv. Don’t you agree, Melisande?”
And she smiled
at Melisande with the air of a gladiator who has just defeated his opponent in
the arena, yet twists the sword in the fatal wound as if glorying in his pain.
The look
Melisande shot at Maelys did not bode well for their future relationship, and
Dirk suddenly sensed that trouble lay ahead in that direction. Melisande knew
full well what Maelys referred to, and she would not let the younger girl’s
insults go unpunished.
Be careful,
Maelys, he wanted to warn his impulsive sister. You are teasing a snake when
you bait Melisande.
But would she
poison her own father-in-law? And if so, why would she? What possible reason
could she have for wanting this good man dead?
Dirk decided
to visit Yuna on his own and question her. He would use the pretext of wanting
a healing ointment for his rough hands that frequently cracked open in cold dry
weather and bled slightly, producing considerable discomfort. He would tell her
that he thought if he started taking it now he would not suffer when the winter
came.
That night he
slipped out of the hut after the evening meal and told his mother he wished to
take a walk and get some air. He thought a walk in the woods might soothe him:
he would not be out too long.
Dirk started
walking in the direction of the woods and slipped into them, heading through
them to Yuna’s hut. Later he would confess to his mother, but he did not wish
Melisande to see him visiting the old wise woman. Such an unusual action on his
part would alert her to his suspicions of her, and he needed time to
investigate the matter fully. He did not know what he would do should he
confirm his suspicions regarding his sister-in-law.
Yuna’s hut was
on the outskirt of the village near the woods. She liked this location so she
could easily walk into them to gather the herbs and berries she needed. Dirk
approached it from the back, and under the cover of darkness, slipped around to
the front door.
He knocked
quietly and waited. Yuna was slow in her walk, being well advanced in years,
and it took her some time to make it to the door. He fretted and shifted his
weight from one foot to the other with growing impatience, anxious lest
Melisande should spy him from her hut and wonder at his visit.
At last the
door slowly creaked open, and he beheld the wizened visage of the old woman. To
say that she was old was to state the case mildly in his opinion. Dirk liked
pretty girls and many maidens had caught his eye; the deep wrinkles of the
woman who stood before him was like that of a garment whose appearance was
spoiled by their manifestation. He longed to take her face in his hands and
straighten it out as he did his own robes when they creased into wrinkles. As
this was not possible, he merely asked if he could step inside.
Yuna stepped
aside for him to enter and closed the door silently behind her. Dirk glanced
around the room and saw a small brazier with a fire pit, a wooden table and two
chairs, a door that led into her bedchamber, and some copper pots hanging on
the wall. A strong aroma of herbs permeated the room; some fresh and reviving,
others heavy and pungent. He noticed some wooden vessels with stoppers in them
on a stand with shelves in one corner of the room, and determined this must be
her supply of herbs.
Yuna cast a
bright glance at him out of her small black eyes and asked him his business.
“Let me guess;
you want a potion to make some fair lass fall for you, I’ll wager. Naught but
that would bring you to my door, Dirk Adalbart,” she whimpered in a creaky
voice that sounded like a door hinge in need of oiling.
“Nay, not at
all,” he smiled engagingly at her.
“Tis my hands,”
he stated as he held them out before her. “They get so dry in cold weather they
crack open and bleed, a real discomfort for sure. I was wondering if you have
any ointment in your fine store that will heal them. For I sure don’t want to
spend another winter with bloody fingers, do I?”
“Tis only
June, and you be wanting it already?” she queried.
Dirk merely
shrugged his wide shoulders.
“Sure if I
start taking it now my skin will most likely be healed before the cold comes.”
Yuna studied
his face to examine his sincerity. She cocked her head to the side, and then
hobbled her way to her store of herbs. She rummaged around on a shelf, and
presently returned with a small bottle containing a lotion.
She opened the
bottle and presented it to Dirk. He smelled some foul aroma that did not bode
well for the application of the lotion upon his body, and hesitated. He
wrinkled his nose and gagged slightly before he questioned Yuna.
“What is it?”
he asked, dreading to hear what the answer might be.
Yuna’s ancient
face creased into a smile filled with mirth, her eyes full of mischief.
“Tis the best
lotion in the world for dry, bleeding skin,” she cackled.
“What
is
it?”
Dirk repeated, certain now that he would not like the answer.
“Goat’s urine,
the best lotion in the world. I keep my goats for just this purpose,” she
informed him. “Hold out your hands now while I apply it.”
Dirk was
strongly tempted to refuse her, but as this was his excuse for paying her a
visit he could not do so. He took a deep breath, held it, and permitted the old
woman to pour the disgusting lotion over his dry hands.
After he paid
her he asked about her store of herbs. He had never seen so many pots and
bottles in one place before. Did she gather everything herself, or did she have
help from the village maidens?
Yuna bristled
at his question. She gathered everything herself, she did. Was he implying that
she was getting too old? She did not take to that kindly, she didn’t, and he
had best watch his manners. She wasn’t one of the village maidens to be taken
with his handsome looks, she wasn’t, and she would give him a good scolding
with her tongue, she would. Yes, she would indeed!
Dirk pondered
on the best way to calm the old woman down, and then hastened to apologize. He
did not mean any offense, he said. He was merely impressed with her fine array
and wondered if there were those who considered it an honor to serve her by
gathering herbs and berries for her.
Such flattery
soothed the old woman’s vanity and she looked to Dirk like a chicken whose
ruffled feathers have just been smoothed, and is willing to sit on her nest of
eggs again to hatch them for her owner. She called him a dear boy and proceeded
to answer his question.
No, she did
not employ any of the village maidens, she said. It would be a wonder if any of
the lazy girls would even offer to help such an old woman, but then what can
you expect of the young, she queried. All they wanted was to buy her herbs to
make their hair and complexions smoother, all the better to ensnare the young men
they wished to trap into matrimony.
But there was
one, she said, who was different. That young widow of Brenus’, now she was an
altogether different case. She was given to visiting Yuna on occasion and
wishing instruction in the different herbs, she was. Nice girl, that one. And
always so thoughtful; bringing her extra herbs whenever she went to the woods
to gather her own to season her stews.