Authors: L. M. Roth
“I, I,” he
paused, and wrinkled his forehead as if to puzzle over the dilemma.
“Do you know,
Father, I have quite forgotten why we came to Lucerna.”
Cort entrusted
his destination to the leading of Dominio. He did not know where he could go;
he was still an exile in his homeland and no other choice seemed to present
itself. He thought that he would like to see Lycenium again, and he could
perhaps assist Marcus with the work of the Kingdom there. But he could not
picture his mother, so used to miles of trees in her native land, and now
accustomed to the primitive wilderness of Eirinia, truly making a home in that
cultivated city.
He sought
Dominio for guidance, and discovered that just as in the time he had spent so
recently in Trekur Lende, he was to follow the path that was set for him. In
Trekur Lende his chosen path stayed miraculously free of snow. Now the path for
his feet was illuminated with a faint green glow, barely distinguishable from
the grass it originated in. For there was no actual path, merely a glow that
spread before his feet.
Siv and Brit
caught their breath in amazement when they first beheld it. They had left the
village of Leith, and Cort confessed that he did not know where they were to
go.
“I can not
return to Trekur Lende, and I am at a loss about where to go next,” he said in
answer to their queries.
He was met
with a blank stare from Brit, who had been so abruptly parted from her good
friend Judoc and uprooted from Leith just as it was beginning to feel like
home. But she said nothing.
Siv sighed and
smiled tenderly at her husband. She came to stand beside him and linked her arm
through his.
“Well then,
dear husband,” she murmured sweetly, “perhaps we should pray and ask Dominio to
guide us to our destination.”
Cort chided
himself. This was of course the answer. It was just like Siv to suggest the
solution to his dilemma. Good Dominio, to have given him this prudent woman for
a wife!
“Of course,”
he answered. “We shall pray.”
They bowed
their heads and clasped their hands together.
“Good Dominio,
we owe everything in our lives to You; to Your love, provision, and goodness.
We have left home and family behind us. Show us where You want us to go where we
can serve You and extend Your Kingdom,” Cort prayed in a firm voice, resolved
now to follow wherever he was sent.
It was Brit
who cried out suddenly and pointed to the grass at their feet. A strange soft
glow that led away in a straight line shone before them. Siv’s face lit up in
amazement, and she laughed in pure delight. Cort heaved a sigh of immense
relief before joining in his wife’s laughter.
And so they
set out, following the glowing path, their hearts yielded to Dominio, and
trusting Him to lead and guide them to their destination.
It was not
long before Cort realized that their path was leading in a southerly direction.
If it kept to this course they would soon leave Eirinia behind them and enter
the boundaries of Valerium via the land route. That this was indeed their
destination was confirmed the further along they traveled.
The woods and
hills of Eirinia had taken on a new and disturbing quality since the last time
Cort had trekked through them. He found himself looking furtively over his shoulder,
careful not to let Siv and Brit see him do it. He almost expected voices to
speak to him, certain that he could hear the faint whispers of he knew not what
that transmitted silent messages through the air…
He did not
speak of these things to the others. He had not shared with them the legends of
Eirinia, and thought it best to keep those tales to himself. For if they knew
of them, he reasoned, they would not be able to sleep at night for the terror
of the unseen beings that walked by night. And yet, he heard at times the
rustle of grass moved by an invisible wanderer, and the silence of the birds
and animals who hushed their voices lest they be detected by hostile visitors.
It was with
genuine relief when the day came that brought them to the borders of Valerium.
Cort was not afraid to enter here, although he had heard from Marcus the
banishing of the Alexandrians from its environs. He himself, however, had not
seen Governor Urbanus in more than twenty years, and he did not think the
Emperor would recognize the small boy in the tall young man he had become.
He determined
for the safety of Siv and Brit to concoct a reasonable story for their presence
in Valerium that would satisfy the curious and lull the suspicions of the
hostile. He decided to present himself as a humble man whose aged mother was
seeking relief for her infirm limbs in the baths of Potentus. He recalled them
from his previous visit to the city many years before, and remembered Felix’s
account of their healing properties. Surely that was a good excuse for entering
Potentus, was it not?
They entered
unmolested after stating their business. Indignant at first that her son would
think her so advanced in age, Brit at first had refused to participate in such
a ruse. But the obstinacy in her son’s face weakened her resistance and she
agreed to indulge him.
Thus committed
she presented a very convincing act to the guards, bending over double and
moaning in pretended pain. She attempted to straighten herself to salute the
guards at the gates of the city, only to fall back into her stoop, the worse
for her efforts.
“Pardon me,
sirs,” she whimpered. “I do not mean to be rude, but you will forgive an old
woman in her infirmity, will you not?”
The guards
exchanged a bemused glance and a shrug.
“Enter,” they
said indifferently, their duties too great to worry about one old woman and her
son and his wife.
Brit did not
straighten her posture until they were well out of sight. When they arrived at
an inn, Cort persuaded her to continue her charade to convince the proprietor
and the other guests of the truth of her pretext.
Brit sighed
and cuffed her son on the shoulder.
“If only you
were still small enough to spank,” she murmured.
The baths were
visited and enjoyed by all. What a marvel, Brit exclaimed. If she
had
been
infirm she would have soon been healed, of that there was no doubt! They spent
some time loitering in the busy streets. Potentus was the first large city that
Brit and Siv had ever seen and everywhere they looked were new wonders to meet
their dazzled eyes.
They marveled
over the great stone bridges that spanned the river, and the statues of the
great and renowned that crowned their balustrades. They thrilled to the sound
of the bells that rang whenever a new ship docked into port, welcoming the
travelers home after their voyage. And the baths were faithfully visited daily,
both women reveling in the warm waters and the pleasant conversation of the
ladies they met.
Cort did not
know why they were led to Potentus, but the path had led them to it and he must
trust Domino for the purpose of their visit. Until that purpose was revealed he
spent the time showing Siv and Brit the square where the men of the city met
every morning to discuss the news of the day. He led them through the busy
markets where the slaves came to buy the food their masters would require for
their households that day. He even took them to the Imperial Palace, which they
glimpsed through the gates of black iron that encompassed it, and caught their
breath at the magnificent structure of black granite streaked with rose-red.
Siv exclaimed
over its imposing appearance, and then suddenly shivered.
“Are you all
right, Siv?” Cort inquired anxiously as he put an arm around her trembling
shoulders.
Siv shook her
head as if clearing cobwebs from a corner in a dusty room.
“No,” she said
slowly. “For suddenly I had an impression of death; the black was like a shadow
looming up from I know not where, and the rose-red was like that of blood being
poured out.”
She shivered
again, and Cort drew her close and held her for a moment. He realized that he
was shivering as well. Had Siv had a vision of doom to come?
The next day
Cort rose before Siv and Brit and ambled down to the square. He had fallen into
the habit of coming here to obtain the news of the day. He had casually nodded
to the other men the first time he came, aware that he was a stranger among
them. They looked at him curiously at first, but soon greeted him with a
welcoming smile when he appeared.
On this day
the news was being discussed in the usual manner.
“Another
Alexandrian was cast out of the city yesterday,” said one well-fed patrician
with curls of iron gray and a stout belly that swelled visibly from the folds
of his robe. “And good riddance to him, I say.”
One of the men
shook his head and remonstrated with the first man.
“Not a good
thing; for if the Emperor can banish Alexandrians, why should he stop there?
Why not banish you, or me, or anyone for an imagined offense? It is not a good
thing to banish anyone, whether we ridicule their beliefs or not.”
The first man
glanced sharply at the speaker, and then slowly nodded his head.
“Yes, I see,”
he muttered. “I see what you mean. We must all be careful not to offend the
Emperor for fear of banishment.”
“Or worse,”
chimed in a third man. “I do not know what has come over Emperor Urbanus. He
was always a just and benevolent ruler.”
“I will tell
you what has come over him,” another man stated. “He has fallen under the spell
of a flattering snake. And we all know who that snake is. What I say is this:
let us cut off the head of the snake and that will deal with its lying tongue
that seeks only to advance itself and harm all who quarrel with it.”
“Hush!” urged
the second speaker. “You do not know whether any here is perhaps one of his
sandal licking toadies.”
Cort listened
avidly to this conversation, aware that they spoke of none other than Iacomus
Cornelius. He forced his face into bland lines that bespoke an indifference to
the matter at hand. It would be well to be quiet and listen, and learn all that
he could of the state of matters in Valerium, and those who influenced its
ruler…
Just then a
young man came running into their midst. He flung himself down and panted for
breath.
“Woe to us!”
he exclaimed before relapsing into panting once more.
“What ails
you?” another man said impatiently. “What news?”
“News?”
repeated the man. “Tidings of woe, I have to relate. Woe to us!”
The other men
clustered in a circle about him, frantic now to hear his account.
“Speak and
keep us in suspense no longer!” one of them exclaimed.
The man who
had run into their midst had finally recovered his breath. He looked upon his
companions with a long face and slowly stood up in their midst.
“Emperor
Urbanus,” he intoned in a voice of bleak despair, “has just passed out of this
world.”
There was a
collective gasp from the men assembled. They turned to one another to discuss
how this could impact the Empire, and the citizenry. Before they could speak,
however, the man held up a hand for silence.
“And his
successor has been named,” he stated.
It was so
silent in the square now that Cort could hear the toot of a whistle from the
harbor two miles away, as each man leaned in to hear the news. Everyone knew
that the Emperor was childless, and the matter of his succession was one that
was often discussed among the Valerian people.
“That
successor,” the man continued, “is none other than the Emperor’s dear friend,
Iacomus Cornelius, who has already been sworn in at the Emperor’s deathbed to
guard and watch over us.”
It was with
difficulty that Marcus was able to get any further news out of Lucius. The
young man stated that both he and his mother had forgotten the reason they came
to Lucerna. And if he were to be believed, a strange fruit that made one forget
all of their troubles was responsible for the memory lapse they suffered.
He suddenly
recalled the words of the old woman in the marketplace and the bottle she had
tried to thrust on him. Marcus frowned, but he was reluctant to believe the
words of a woman who sold such potions for a living. For one thing, sellers of
potions frequently lied, and even if she were proved true her information no
doubt came from a spirit of divination, and Dominio had expressly forbidden
such practices, as power of that kind emanated from the Astra who empowered
those who sought them out for such evil purposes.
No, he would
resist the temptation to return and obtain the bottle with the potion that
would restore memory. He suddenly remembered her words, that the potion was for
his true love who “has forgotten something of great importance to you.” He
realized that the words referred to Tullia alone; yet Lucius stated that he had
forgotten as well. Why did the woman mention only Tullia and not Lucius?
He decided
that the best course would be to let the effects of the
faran
wear off.
If
it wore off. Marcus hoped it was merely a temporary effect and not permanent.
And once the effects wore off by abstaining from the fruit, Tullia’s memory
would be restored and she would remember what emergency had sent her to Lucerna
in pursuit of the man she hated and feared above all others in the world.
Marcus decided
to share this information with Lucius in the hope that it would jog his memory.
Perhaps he might recall what the hunt was about if he was told who their quarry
was. He could not, however, say anything in front of Antonius, who was still in
the dark in regards to the calamities of evil to which his father was capable
of executing.
One day as
they journeyed along, Marcus asked Lucius to accompany him on horseback and
permit Antonius to ride in the carriage. It would do the young man good, he
stated, to be out of the elements for a day, as scurrying clouds warned of rain
to come. Lucius knew how easily Antonius took ill, and graciously gave his
friend the carriage and rode with his father.
Their pace had
slowed now that Marcus no longer felt the urgency to find his family, and they
rode behind the carriage at a moderate trot.
“Tell me,
Lucius,” he began. “Why did you and your mother set out in search of Decimus?
Paulina told me that Tullia called on her the day you left and departed in a
great hurry after she was informed that Decimus left to visit a sick uncle in
Lucerna.”
Lucius was
careful not to look at his father, lest the panic in his eyes betray his guilt.
He should have known that his father would have been told to search for them in
Lucerna, otherwise he would not have found them here.
“Well, I told
you, Father,” he stammered. “I have forgotten as well as Mother why we came
here.”
He hoped that
would pacify his father, but Marcus shot him a piercing glance from his keen
gray eyes. How long could he keep the truth from him?
“It must have
been dire for Tullia to seek out the man she hates and fears so greatly,”
Marcus persisted. “She would not have set out unless the matter was so urgent
that she could not wait for my return, and to leave it for me to follow
Decimus.”
Lucius
shrugged his shoulders helplessly as he fought a rising urge to panic and
confess everything. Yet he feared his father’s wrath only a little less than he
feared Dominio’s. Why could his father not let the matter rest?
“Yes, it must
have been urgent,” he agreed with a voice that took considerable effort to
prevent from shaking.
Marcus stared
at the young man, convinced now that Lucius was not telling the whole truth.
What is he holding back from me, he wondered. And why does he betray himself
with his fear whenever I question him?
They arrived
back in Lycenium within three weeks of their outset after traveling from
daybreak to sundown. Tullia stumbled wearily out of the carriage and Marcus led
her by the arm into the villa.
“I feel as
though I could sleep for a week!” she muttered. “Just lead me to my bedchamber,
Marcus!”
Marcus felt an
overwhelming tenderness for her, and suddenly scooped her up in his arms and
carried her up the stairs to her chamber, kissing her forehead as he did so. He
returned to the atrium and was greeted by Felicia, whom Otho had released after
he judged Marcus and Antonius to be too far gone for pursuit. It would not do
to keep the daughter of the house locked away for fear of gossip. So the good
man had relented and freed her from her impromptu prison.
It was a
sullen daughter who greeted Marcus. Her eyes still smoldered like blazing coals
with the remembered indignity of her punishment, but they shone like stars at
the sight of Antonius. The young man cast a pleading glance at his
father-in-law and Marcus nodded reluctantly. Antonius rushed to Felicia and
embraced her warmly. She held up her face for his kiss, which was passionately
bestowed, and Marcus felt a pang at the sight.
How quickly
she has grown up, he thought. And how happy I would be for her were it not for
the fact that her husband is the son of my enemy…
Lucius was
astounded at the sight of his best friend embracing and kissing his sister, and
he let out a startled exclamation, which was promptly quenched by his father.
“Later,
Lucius: I shall tell you later,” he said, his weariness infecting even the tone
of his voice.
Then he
suddenly cast a sharp glance at his son.
“Perhaps when
you have told me everything about your urgent mission.”
Lucius
reddened and gulped hastily. Marcus took no pity on him, as he was now
convinced that there was something Lucius withheld from him.
Otho entered
just then with a scroll that he presented to Marcus.
“This letter
just arrived for you, sir.”
“Thank you,
Otho,” he said as he took the letter and headed for the library to read it in
privacy.
He closed the
door quietly and settled into a favorite chair, putting his feet upon a
footstool that stood nearby. He paused for a moment to sigh deeply and rest his
head on the back of the chair. When he was comfortably situated he slit the
seal and opened the scroll.
It was from
Cort, but to his surprise, it came from Valerium, from Potentus itself. He read
with growing disbelief as alarm spread rapidly through every fiber of his
being.
No, it could
not be! But it was. Emperor Urbanus, his old friend, had died! And his
successor was none other than Iacomus Cornelius, the snake who had instigated
the banishment of the Alexandrians from Valerium.
There was
more.
The new
Emperor had a new Minister of State, one who was an old and trusted friend,
Cort wrote. Who else would the Emperor entrust the smooth administration to the
affairs of state to except his dear friend of many years, Decimus Hadrianus,
the son of the former Governor of Lycenium.
So this was
the reason for the subterfuge, Marcus mused. Decimus was enroute to Valerium to
assist his old friend and lied about his true destination to hide his trail.
But…that was before the Emperor’s passing, he realized. Unless…
Was it
possible that Emperor Urbanus had been helped out of this world by those who
wished to usurp his power for their own evil schemes? Was that the reason
Decimus had covered his tracks and led Tullia and Lucius on a wild chase?
When Tullia
woke from her sleep she joined Marcus who now sat with Felicia, Lucius, and
Antonius in the atrium. The afternoon sun had warmed the area where they liked
best to sit in the evening, and all were comfortably reclining, while lost in
their own thoughts.
Tullia yawned
lazily and joined them, pausing to kiss her daughter. She appeared to Marcus to
have forgotten her anger with Felicia. Perhaps that fruit erased her memory of
all of her troubles? He shuddered at the thought. Such an occurrence would not
be natural.
Lucius decided
to make an effort at conversation.
“What was in
your letter, Father? Is it news you can share with us?”
Marcus decided
to exercise a tactic of his own.
“I have news
from my old friend Cort,” he began. “He has left Eirinia with his wife and
mother and is presently in Valerium.”
He paused for
a moment before proceeding, unsure how to relate his news with Antonius
present. But a sense of urgency overcame his caution…
“He writes
that Emperor Urbanus has died.”
This news was
met with cries of dismay from Felicia and Lucius. Tullia caught a hand to her
lips to stifle a sob, but her body crumpled suddenly and Marcus knew she had
suffered a grievous blow. How fond she had always been of Urbanus and Renata!
He cleared his
throat and continued, his eyes riveted on his son to gauge his reaction to his
next words.
“His successor
will be Iacomus Cornelius. And his Minister of State is none other than Decimus
Hadrianus, who is already in Valerium and installed in his new office.”
“No!” Tullia
sprang out of her seat and snatched the letter from Marcus.
That she was
so startled she had forgotten the presence of Decimus’ son was evident by her
next words.
“Oh, it can
not be so! It
can
not be so!” she wailed.
She burst into
tears and turned with fury on her son, who was now openly cowering down in his
seat.
“Lucius, do
you see?” she queried in an accusing tone, her memory suddenly restored by the
shock of the news she had just received. “Do you see what your carelessness has
done?”
Marcus was
truly mystified by her words: what had his son done that was somehow connected
with the state of affairs in Valerium?
“What is it,
Tullia?” he asked her, with a strange sense of foreboding growing in his heart.
He noticed
that Antonius had risen to his feet, bewilderment written all over his face.
Like the others, he also waited for Tullia to continue.
“Marcus,” she
said, her voice quivering with suppressed fury and fear, “due to a careless
action on the part of our son, Logos, your only legacy, is missing.”
Marcus felt
his legs give way beneath him and he sat down abruptly in the chair he had just
risen from. His heart beat so rapidly he was certain it would burst from his
chest, and a sound like that of the waves pounding against the shore now
pummeled his ears…
“What,” he
tried to speak through a mouth so dry that his voice cracked, “what….has he
done?”
Tullia had no
choice but to continue.
“Through a
careless action on the part of our son, Logos was taken from this house while
you were away. I was led on a wild chase that was intended to hide the true
destination of the one who stole it.”
She stopped
for a moment, halted by the gasp of protest that erupted from the lips of the
son of her old tormentor. She shook her head apologetically at Antonius and
smiled ruefully; but she turned relentlessly back to Marcus and continued.
“And now I
know: the true destination was Valerium. The Sword has been taken to Potentus
and is now in the hands of the Emperor Iacomus Cornelius, given to him by his
new Minister of State.
“Our old
enemy, Marcus: none other than Decimus Hadrianus.”
Antonius cried
out and would have asked questions, but Felicia caught him by the arm to quiet
him. Marcus stared with unseeing eyes at Tullia whose own betrayed her agony.
“Logos, the
Sword that must never be used in violence, is now in the hands of evil men,
ruthless in their quest for power,” she wailed.
“Dominio have
mercy on us all.”