Authors: L. M. Roth
Although
spring was in full bloom the Imperial Palace felt as though it was still caught
in winter’s unrelenting grasp. If an icy blast had blown through the Palace it
would not have surprised the Palace Guards who waited on the Emperor with
anxious hearts, fearful lest they manage to bring the Emperor’s ire down on
their luckless heads.
None of the
Guards felt the bleak atmosphere more than Iosephus, not a man of cheerful
disposition himself, or known as such. It had been November when his old friend
Odelius had disappeared from Valerium at the same time that Justus Lucius, one
of the Emperor’s prisoners, had also escaped from his dungeon. Gossip was
rampant that Odelius had managed to release him and had escaped with him for
parts unknown.
Iosephus
missed Odelius sorely: the two had worked together for so long that their names
were linked together by the other Guards when speaking of one or the other.
Should one appear at the dining hall where the Guards had their meals without
the other, the other one was inquired about. Therefore it was not unusual for
others to hear, “Odelius, where is Iosephus?” if he should be absent. But for
the past few months none had dared ask Iosephus where Odelius was, although
there were those who suspected that he knew full well where his old friend was
hiding.
In truth,
Iosephus had not had any word from Odelius. He suspected that wherever Justus
Lucius had gone, that Odelius had gone also. But Iosephus was mystified as to
why Odelius would take the risk of releasing a royal prisoner. Surely he knew
that he could not hide from the Emperor for long! The Empire was too vast, her
army too strong; it would only be a matter of time before Odelius would be
discovered and brought back to face imprisonment himself for aiding a prisoner
in his escape.
The real
question that Iosephus asked himself over and over was: for what possible reason
would Odelius help Justus Lucius escape? And the answer that came to him over
and over was: none. Justus was a complete stranger to Odelius. Oh, certainly he
knew who he was; Justus had been on the Council for years. But he had no
contact with Odelius prior to his incarceration as the unwilling guest of the
Emperor.
And so
Iosephus puzzled over the mystery, and came up with his own solution: Odelius
had been framed and helped out of the capital by someone else who wanted Justus
released. And Iosephus had a very good idea who that someone was.
Iosephus
remembered the days of long ago when Empress Aurora sat on the throne and
forced a young Marcus Maximus to imperil himself on a quest to satisfy her own
desires. And he recalled as well the young friend of Marcus named Felix, none
other than the son of Justus Lucius. Who else but Marcus Maximus would wish
Justus to be released? And who would he contact to effect that release but
Odelius, a Guard who was well-known to Marcus and was fond of him. If there was
anyone that Odelius would take such a grave risk for, it would be him.
But Iosephus
was incorrect in his surmise, and if he had known the truth he would never have
believed it.
The Emperor
sat on his throne listening to the report from his Minister of State. Decimus
Hadrianus met with Iacomus every morning to inform him of the latest happenings
in the Empire according to the messages that he received every morning either
by post or the messengers who ran from one end of the Empire to the other with
urgent news that could not afford the delay incurred through travel by voyage
when a ship might be hindered by bad weather. Decimus unfurled the scrolls and
read in a monotone the list of petitions from the provinces that requested
either financial aid or military protection from surrounding barbarian forces
that attempted periodically to invade the Valeriun Empire through one of the
smaller nations under her thumb.
The Emperor
yawned: he was not greatly interested in hearing those requests, but it was a
duty imposed on him by his royal office. He would have left it all to Decimus
to deal with, but as Emperor he had to at least give the appearance of seeming
interested in the welfare of the Empire’s citizens. In truth, he did not care
for the populace as a whole, and as individuals even less so. It was merely
power over the people that he desired, to be obeyed and feared; their welfare
was of no concern to him.
As Decimus
neared the end of reading through the messages, the Emperor turned to him
abruptly. He tapped a finger idly on the arm of the throne and raised one hand
for Decimus to cease. His Minister of State complied with his wishes and
snapped his mouth shut.
“Tell me,”
Iacomus drawled, “what news do you have of this prisoner who escaped from our
hospitality last November? Has anyone seen him, or know where he is hiding?”
Decimus
restrained the urge to swallow for fear of giving himself away. He concentrated
on keeping his face impassive and his eyes unblinking as he sought for a
satisfactory answer. None came, so he decided to lie.
“No, Your
Grace; I have heard no news of the man.”
“Hmm,” Iacomus
murmured as his eyes stared off into space. “It worries me that one could leave
our dungeon; I hear he was helped by one of the Palace Guards. Is that true?
And where is he?”
“Well, they
did disappear simultaneously, so it is generally assumed that the Guard helped
the man to escape. But I have heard no news of their whereabouts since that
time.”
Here Decimus
bowed.
“I should be
sure to report any news of them if I hear it, Your Grace.”
The Emperor
pursed his lips and drummed the fingers of one hand on his knee.
“Well, give
the order that if anyone does hear of either of them, they should be put to
death at once. I do not even want them in my dungeon: I want them dead. That
should punish them for daring to insult their Emperor.”
Decimus bowed
again.
“Yes, Your
Grace.”
The Emperor
then thought of another matter. His eyes widened and he snapped his fingers.
“What do you
hear of our subjects in the provinces? Do they worship Dominio, or do they
persist as those rebels did who insisted on keeping the Festival of Regat?”
Decimus
suddenly appeared ill at ease, and he delayed his answer to the Emperor. He
would have refused to answer, but realized that an answer was required and to
refuse was to insult his sovereign.
“I do not know
of what you speak, Your Grace. I have heard of no rebellion, but I do not have
access to reports of how people in the provinces worship, and therefore can not
answer your question to your satisfaction.”
Iacomus shot a
glance at Decimus that caused alarm to surge through his body. He knew Iacomus
was not easy to fool, and would not hesitate to punish his Minister of State,
old friend though he was, were he to be caught in a lie.
“I mean,
Decimus, whether they persist in their old beliefs, or if they have bowed their
knee to Dominio as I ordered them to?”
“Ah, well,
that I do not know, Your Grace. Or rather, I have not heard any news to the
contrary. Therefore they must be obeying the Emperor’s edict.”
“Find out,
Decimus. I will not tolerate pagan practices in the Valeriun Empire. I want you
to send word throughout the provinces that any caught serving any deity but
Dominio shall be punished with death. And any who do not bow the knee to
Dominio shall be given the opportunity to do so. If they refuse, they shall
join those who burned at the stake for their rebellion in serving Regat.”
He stared at
Decimus with eyes that pierced him as coldly as the steel blade of a sword. A
trickle of sweat ran down Decimus’ brow and stopped on his upper lip. He did
not dare lick it off, but looked expectantly at Iacomus.
It was clear
that Iacomus was waiting for a response, but Decimus was frozen in place,
speech strangled in his throat.
“Is that
clear, Decimus?” Iacomus spat out the words at him, spittle flying from his
tightly clenched jaw.
With an effort
Decimus was at last able to nod his head.
“Yes, Your
Grace. It shall be done.”
When he was
finally released from the presence of the Emperor, Decimus hastened to his own
ante-chamber where he sent for Dag Adalbart, the man that Iacomus called his
miracle man, to come to his ante-chamber.
He did not
have long to wait. In the intervening days since Dominio had used Dag to raise
Iacomus from the dead, Decimus had wondered about the man. He had seen Iacomus
die with his own eyes, felt the lack of a pulse, and saw that his breath was
stopped within him. He had no doubt that some kind of miracle had taken place,
but he was not sure how it had happened.
Decimus was
not religious in any way and had never sought the assistance of any deity, and
was not comfortable with the edict that Iacomus enforced on the citizens of
Valerium to worship Dominio. He did not know exactly what the Alexandrians
believed, although Antonius had mentioned some things to him out of his
youthful enthusiasm. But when Iacomus had persecuted the Alexandrians Decimus
did not think it wise for his son to speak of Dominio and had forbidden him to
say anything to him for fear of being overheard. Now that the pendulum of
Iacomus had swung the other way and forced everyone to worship Dominio, Decimus
did not think it wise to discuss the Alexandrians with Antonius for fear that
someone would hear and discover that he himself did not worship Dominio.
It had
occurred to Decimus that if anyone would know, it was the miracle man who been
instrumental in raising Iacomus. Decimus had not spoken to Dag when he was a
prisoner, there being no reason for conversing with him. But since Iacomus had
released him from the dungeon and installed him in an office Dag had roused the
curiosity of Decimus.
For one thing,
he was not a fawning courtier who attempted to lick the Emperor’s sandals or
his own in quest of favor. All of Valerium sought power, but it was clear to
Decimus that Dag Adalbart did not. He was also a man, a real man, who did not
care about wearing fine attire or being seen with the right people at an
Imperial Banquet. Although Dag was forced to wear finer robes than his own and
elegant sandals now that he had been given a title, it was clear that he cared
not for such things and would just as soon have worn his own rustic homespun
garments and leather boots.
Decimus
despised the power seekers who sought only their own advance, but he respected
strength and courage. And it was soon clear to him that the man from Eirinia
had both in abundance. Although their paths did not cross during the course of
duty from day to day, Decimus found himself looking for Dag at banquets to
which they were both invited and requested that Dag be seated at his table. His
excuse to the hostess who arranged place settings was that the man was a
barbarian who would be uncomfortable at other tables and might offend the more
refined Valerian citizens, particularly the ladies; whereas Decimus’ own wife
was from the provinces and would be more forgiving of any lapse of good
manners.
But if
anything it was Dag who possessed better manners than Paulina. Decimus paid
close attention when Dag spoke, noting the slow careful speech and the patient
search for the right word. He suspected that Dag’s background was more
primitive even than Eirinia, and out of curiosity asked him about it once. Dag
did not hesitate to speak of Trekur Lende and the Lights of Rainbow Hue and the
Long Day when the sun never set. He spoke of the trees that stretched for
hundreds of miles in every direction without a break, and of the wind chimes
that called wanderers in the wild to a place of safety from the elements and
wild animals.
Paulina
confessed herself enthralled, and Decimus noted that others at their table
appeared similarly transported by the man’s account. Although he preferred the
city to any backwater, the place did sound intriguing as described by the man
from Trekur Lende.
It was at a
banquet just last month that his own daughter-in-law Felicia saw Dag and
recognized him. To the astonishment of Decimus, she announced that he was a
very old and close friend of her father’s, and that she was a friend of Dag’s
daughter. This information did not square with what Decimus knew of Marcus
Maximus, who was known in his youth as a great snob who lorded his father’s
position over those around him, and the knowledge of his friendship with the
barbarian surprised him greatly.
He suddenly snapped
back to the present when he became aware that Dag stood before him expectantly,
a pleasant smile softening his rugged face that looked carved from some exotic
specimen of hard wood.
“Ah, Dag! How
are you today? Do you enjoy the fine weather, or have you been confined
indoors?” Decimus asked, more for the sake of the Palace Guard who had not yet
withdrawn from their presence than because he was truly interested in such
banalities.
Dag knew that
Decimus was not greatly interested but went along with the ruse and answered
his questions briefly.
Then Decimus
signaled for the Guard to depart until called for again, and invited Dag to
take a seat opposite his table where a stack of scrolls lay waiting for his
attention.
Decimus did
not waste further time on trivialities but came directly to the point.
“I am to send
an edict out to the provinces,” he said in a voice so low that Dag had to
strain to hear it, “informing them that they must all worship Dominio or be
burned as heretics.”
He paused for
a moment and watched Dag closely to see his response to this statement. The
great man turned pale but did not speak. He closed his eyes and muttered under
his breath words that Decimus could not hear.
“And I ask
you, Dag; what kind of God do you serve that requires worship or death?”
Decimus asked in a rough voice that masked his growing fear.
Although he
was loath to admit it to anyone, Decimus Hadrianus feared that his old friend
Iacomus had gone mad. But to speak such a thing would be paramount to treason,
and he knew it.
Dag’s response
was immediate and in defense of his God.
“No, Dominio
does not require worship or death! That is a lie, and a vile one at that!”
“But what of
this that my son Antonius speaks of, that if you do not worship Dominio you do
not go to Heaven? What is this about? How can you say Dominio does not require
worship, yet He will not permit you into Heaven unless you worship Him? It is
confusing to me; please explain it.”
And Dag smiled
gently at Decimus, who did indeed appear genuinely confused. There was also a
tension about him that he did not understand: for some reason unknown to him,
Dag’s answer would matter greatly.
“Dominio is
the All Supreme,” Dag said. “He gave free will to men, whether we would worship
Him or not. Because of our rebellion and insistence on going our own way, He
will not let us into Heaven, His holy abode when we die unless we are first
reconciled to Him as His children. But He does not put to death any who reject
Him while living, unless as a judgment on an individual who has done great evil
to others and whose heart is so hard that they will not turn. In such a case,
it might be better to take the life of that one before they do greater damage
to more lives.”
Decimus stared
hard at Dag, so hard that he seemed to be looking right through him. He made no
comment on Dag’s statement, but to the Trekur Lender it was clear that he
pondered on it heavily.
Decimus opened
his mouth to say something, but just at that moment the Palace Guard returned.
Decimus was about to reprimand him for returning before being sent for but the
Guard bowed low before him and forestalled him with his next words.
“Forgive me,
Your Excellency for intruding, but I have come to bring a message for your
guest.”
He turned to
Dag and bowed again.
“I have just
been informed that your wife and sons have arrived from Eirinia, and are
waiting for you in your chambers.”
When Dag saw
Judoc he hurried across the room and swept her up in his arms and kissed her
long and passionately, to the surprise of Cort and Brand, who discreetly looked
the other way. Cort took his younger brother by the elbow and they sauntered
over to the window and looked down on the streets of Potentus. A fine rain had
begun to fall, a typical spring rain that appeared without warning and dropped
gently on the stone pavement of the streets below, sending the citizens
scurrying for the nearest shelter. Cort looked across to the small stone inn
where he had deposited Siv and Brit, who insisted they did not wish to be
present at the family reunion that should be private.
When the sound
of endearments at last died away, he turned to venture a look at his adopted
parents. They stood with their arms wrapped tightly around one another, and he
realized suddenly that it might be prudent to remove himself and his brother so
their parents could be alone following their separation of nine months.
With that
thought in mind he excused himself and Brand and closed the door of the room
behind them.