Authors: L. M. Roth
The passage of
time had hardened Nolwenn, but not matured her. She persisted in defending
Melisande against all criticism, and enjoyed goading Maelys on every possible
occasion.
“Oh, Maelys,”
she said one evening when they had all assembled for the evening meal. “Tomos
was searching for you a little while ago, wanting to know if he could walk with
you this evening. I told him I didn’t think you would say
no
, so he will
be expecting you right after we eat.”
Maelys blushed
and turned a withering look on her younger sister, who glanced down at her
plate with an assumed expression of demure innocence that gave Maelys the
desire to slap her.
“I am old
enough to speak for myself, Nolwenn,” she huffed. “You can just keep the
appointment with Tomos for me, since you think you are at liberty to speak on
my behalf. Tell him it was
you
who desired to walk with him, and not
your sister, who finds him the biggest bore in the village.”
“Ow!” Nolwenn
exclaimed. “That is rude, Maelys, to say such a thing to someone. And it is
clear that Tomos thinks the sun rises and sets in you. I do not understand why
you persist in being so cold to him. After all, what are your choices? Do you
think you could do better? The village
is
rather small, or haven’t you
noticed?”
Maelys openly
glared at Nolwenn and restrained the urge to smack her for impertinence.
Nolwenn knew that had Judoc been present she would not have been allowed to
speak of such things before their guests, Kyrene and Lucius. And Maelys noticed
suddenly that Lucius was growing red and uncomfortable. Kyrene also appeared to
notice, and without warning, she impishly turned the tables on Nolwenn.
“Oh, but that
is not quite true, is it? That Maelys lacks choices, I mean. I have noticed
that Annick is still a pool that the young ladies of Leith may fish from, so
the village youths are not her only resource. Indeed, isn’t there a young man
in Annick whose mother wishes to make a match between
you
and her son,
Nolwenn? Now, let me see, what is his name? Oh, I can not think…but it will
come to me, I am sure!”
“It is
Pierrick,” Dirk helpfully announced as his dark eyes glinted in mischief.
“That is it!
Pierrick!” Kyrene chimed in with glee. “Thank you, Dirk. Yes, it is Pierrick.
And how does that courtship go, Nolwenn? May we expect an announcement soon?”
Maelys burst
out laughing but quickly covered her mouth with her napkin. She knew how
Nolwenn hated to be teased, but the combined playfulness of Kyrene and Dirk had
hit the mark. From now on Nolwenn would be more careful in baiting her sister,
as she also had a suitor whom she ardently wished to avoid.
Nolwenn
bestowed a sour grimace upon one and all and rose from the table.
“I think I
need some fresh air,” she sniffed, and stomped from the kitchen.
“Perhaps it
will clear your brain, Nolwenn,” Dirk shot at her before she was out of
earshot.
He was annoyed
at the taunts she had thrust at Maelys, and knew the motive behind it. Lately
Maelys had made genuine overtures of friendliness toward Melisande, who seemed
both surprised and pleased by her changed behavior, and Nolwenn didn’t like it.
She enjoyed her status as their sister-in-law’s special friend, and the last
thing she wanted was a rival for attention. If there was another motive for her
taunts, Dirk sincerely hoped his sister was mistaken, as his glance fell on
Lucius, whose face had resumed its normal hue once the tables had been turned
on Nolwenn.
Hope that dies
out pretty soon, he thought as his keen gaze traveled from Lucius to his
sister.
Nolwenn burst
out of the hut and walked down to the spring where she drew water in the
mornings. She inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. The spring peepers
were softly chanting and the last rays of the setting sun bathed the land with
an orange glow, turning the bark of the trees from gray to a pale apricot. She
fought down the anger within her, it being of no use now that she lacked an
audience, but her ire still burned in her heart, and she found no peace in the
pastoral twilight.
She knew, she
just knew, that something was brewing between Maelys and Lucius. And she had
Lucius designated for Melisande, only he appeared blind to her charms, having
eyes only for her sister, who was completely blind to his attentions. Or
pretended to be.
So distraught
was she that forgot her usual caution and withdrew her pendant from the bodice
of her gown, that she might consult the amulet. She did not step into the
trees, but stood right by the spring, and so intent was she on gazing into the
smoky depths of the crystal that she was taken by surprise by her brother Dirk.
“And just what
is that? Another of your sorceries, sister? Tell me or I will give you a
beating as I did once before.”
And before she
could fathom his intentions Dirk had seized the pendant and held up the amulet
to the fading sunlight. Panic enraged her and Nolwenn struck out at him, but
her fists only glanced off of him and were ineffective.
“Give me that!
Give it to me, I tell you! No one is allowed to hold that but me!”
“Is that so?”
Dirk huffed at her. “Well, let me see what we have here. Ah, a crystal! An
amulet of some sort, is it? For I see visions forming in its depths right now!
Where did you get this, Nolwenn? Answer me and do not lie!”
Nolwenn flew
at him, vainly struggling to recover the amulet from his grasp. But Dirk was
not only stronger than she, he was also amazingly quick on his feet and he
evaded her clutch.
“Did Yuna give
this to you? Is that where you got it, from the old wise woman? For she would
know of sorcery I dare say!”
“No, it was
given to me by Melisande,” Nolwenn blurted out before she could stop the words.
In horror at
what she had done, she clasped her hands over her mouth as if to recall the
words. Dirk pounced on them.
“Oh, she did,
did she? Well, I can deal with this, and then I will deal with her!”
Suddenly Dirk
threw the amulet to the ground and he trod on the crystal. It cracked under his
weight and he ground it down, stomping on it, and he picked up a heavy rock and
smashed the amulet until it lay in crystal splinters beneath his feet.
Nolwenn let
out a shriek of horror, and then suddenly whimpered as softly as a child. She
threw herself on the ground and lay there silently. So long did she lie there
that Dirk grew worried. He wondered if this was some trick on her part, but his
anxiety increased and he stooped down to his sister.
“Nolwenn? Are
you alright?”
He put a hand
on her shoulder gently, and turned her over to face him. She frowned at him
with a bewildered air, and appeared puzzled. She looked at the fragments of the
amulet, and picked them up and stared at them where they lay in her hand. Then
she turned her hand over and let them fall to the ground. Still she looked at
Dirk as if mystified at how she came to be where she was.
She allowed
him to pull her to her feet, and she glanced up at him, all traces of anger
wiped clean from her face.
“Dirk?” she
peered at him with the old expression of innocence that had always been the
hallmark of her countenance.
“Yes, Nolwenn?”
She stared at
the shards of the amulet that lay scattered on the ground.
“We need to
bury this amulet at once,” she told him. “For I believe that it is altogether
evil.”
What amazed
Marcus was how quickly little Valerius Gerontius came to dominate the two
families. It was not for nothing, he thought, that the baby had been named
after two powerful men. He hoped it would not prove a curse to one so small.
It was
wonderful to return to the world of light after his time in the caves. He could
not fathom why the Emperor had relented and not called him to Valerium as
Decimus had anticipated, but felt that probably the connection between his
daughter and the Minister of State was largely responsible. It would have been
difficult to execute the father of the Minister of State’s daughter-in-law
without causing distress to the Minister of State would have been the usual
line of reasoning. That he knew little of the history of the Minister of State
with his daughter-in-law’s father was only too obvious by such a conventional
line of reasoning. Marcus knew that nothing would delight Decimus more than his
execution, indeed he would only be too glad to have a hand in it, were it not
for Felicia.
It was
incomprehensible to Marcus that one as vile as the Decimus Hadrianus that he
knew should be capable of warm affection for anyone, and yet it was becoming
clear to him that the man loved Marcus’ daughter as much as he loved Decimus’
son. What a joke on both of them that this should be so.
Marcus recalled
the words of Kyrene, admonishing him to make matters right with Decimus, and
that his own threats against the man might prove to be the very reason that the
theft of Logos was permitted. It was not a statement that made him comfortable,
nor one that he liked to think about. But as he pondered on her words and
prayed about them, the more he got the uncomfortable impression that she was
utterly right…
Felicia had
invited Marcus and Tullia to visit her at the Hadrianus estate where they could
spend time with her and little Valerius. It was a fine day in May and she had
brought the child out to the gardens to enjoy the sunshine and warm air. A
gentle breeze wafted intermittently, sending the boughs of the trees with their
bright green leaves dancing. Their full foliage had not yet come, and the
effect was like a lacy green curtain spreading an air of delicate refinement
over the marble statuary and spraying fountains.
Marcus
realized anew how much he missed his villa and gardens in Valerium, the gardens
which had been so meticulously planned by his mother Honoria. Although the
Emperor had lifted the ban of persecution on the Alexandrians, he had never
received permission to return to his home. And in view of Iacomus’ warped view
of what an Alexandrian was, and his forcing the worship of Dominio, Marcus had
never felt released to ask permission to return. In his heart, he feared that
the price of returning would be at the cost of his integrity, that he might be
called on to authorize the Emperor’s actions. And there was still the matter of
Logos…
He wondered
what use the Emperor was making of it. Certainly he never mentioned it
publicly. If he had taken it to deprive the Alexandrians of a powerful weapon
against him before, it was impossible to determine what his motive was in
suppressing it now. He wondered if Felicia might have any knowledge through
Decimus how Iacomus was utilizing the Sword.
He glanced
over at his daughter, who was cooing over her son. So bright and sweet was the
smile that constantly adorned her face when she looked at him that her father
felt a sudden rush of tenderness for her. His first grandchild; and although he
heartily disliked the child’s other grandfather he already felt a claim on his
affection by the babe now lying on Felicia’s knee.
As if sensing
his silent study of her, she turned a questioning gaze upon Marcus.
“Yes, Father?”
she asked as she lifted an eyebrow in inquiry.
“I am simply
enjoying the sight of you with little Valerius,” he remarked casually. “He
truly is a fine babe, and has a definite look of my father.”
“You mean of
my father,” a voice interjected.
Marcus looked
up and saw that Decimus had joined them. So intent had he been on his
preoccupation with his daughter and grandchild that he had not been aware of
the sounds of approach. And Decimus did possess a quiet, almost stealthy tread,
like that of a wild cat with velvet padded paws.
It was a
description that suited him, Marcus thought. He glanced at his old foe, noting
the black hair threaded lightly with silver, the bright green eyes encased in a
fine network of lines, and the broad shoulders with tapering waist. Although a
little heavier than he had been in his youth, he had kept himself in shape,
even as Marcus had done, with regular exercise at the gymnasium, fencing,
sparring, and running.
He became
aware that Decimus was waiting for a reply.
“Hmm, well, I
never met your father except briefly so I am not sure where the resemblance
lies,” Marcus answered in a curt yet civil tone.
“Yes, it is a
pity that they have chosen to live in Golida and will rarely see the child. But
look here; the broad chin and the wide hands that curl up into fists, not to
mention the color of his eyes, green like mine. It is unmistakable; see?”
“Ah!” Marcus
said as he nodded his head as if in affirmation.
Not for the
life of him would he have known the shape of Gerontius’ hands or chin, as he
had only a fleeting glimpse of him on that day of horror long ago, but it was
true that little Valerius had green eyes like Decimus. Suddenly the child
started to wail, whether due to sensing the suppressed hostility of his
grandfathers, or because he disliked having his features dissected, they could
not tell. But wail he did, and his anxious mother peered into his little face
to determine the cause.
“Oh, I think
he is hungry,” Felicia pronounced. “I shall take him to feed him and then put
him down to sleep. He still requires a lot, and I shall rest with him.”
She bade them
goodbye softly and returned to the villa, leaving the two men alone. It was not
a comfortable silence between them, and both avoided looking at the other. Yet
Marcus kept hearing Kyrene’s words in his head, and he knew he must obey the
prompting of the Spirit.
“Look,
Decimus,” he drawled, unwilling to speak at all so therefore taking his time as
he did so. “I said something to you a few years ago, something that I feel I
must make right.”
Decimus was so
startled that he turned his eyes on Marcus and gave him his full attention. His
face was blank; it was obvious that he was not certain what Marcus referred to,
and waited for him to continue.
“Yes,” Marcus
continued. “I did: I told you once shortly after our sons became friends that
if you ever harmed my family in any way that I would kill you.”
Decimus’ eyes
lit up in remembrance and he nodded his head.
“Yes, you
did,” he said, still nodding his head. “And what is wrong with that? That is
natural, considering our hatred of each other, is it not?”
It was clear
that Decimus was a man of his times, for in the Valeriun Empire it was considered
nothing for a man to kill a foe if he harmed him in any way. But Marcus
answered to a higher power than the Valeriun Empire.
“Yes, it is
natural,” he agreed, “however, it is not right. It is not right in the eyes of
Dominio Whom I serve, and Who loves all men and desires them to be saved.”
“Ah, Dominio
again!” Decimus exclaimed. “He does seem to be mentioned a lot as of late, does
He not?”
He considered
Marcus for a few minutes, studying him intently.
“I can not
seem to avoid hearing about Him, thanks to our Emperor. However, he appears to
worship a different Dominio, a bloodthirsty God who would kill all heretics.
But what you tell me is the same as your friend Dag, who spoke as you do. Very
well, I accept your apology. But that does not change my feeling toward you,
and I do not think it really changes your feeling toward me.”
Marcus twisted
his lips together wryly, and then pounced on something that Decimus had just
said.
“Wait; you
said that Dag ‘spoke’ as I do. Why do you use the past tense? Has the Emperor
put him to death and not made it public? What has happened to Dag?”
Decimus turned
a look both amazed and amused on his old foe.
“Did you not
hear?” he asked in a disbelieving tone. “Well, possibly the news has not
reached Lycenium yet from Valerium. Dag somehow escaped from the Palace, with
his entire family, and this time I had nothing to do with it. No one knows how
it happened, except that every one of the Palace Guard admitted that they had
fallen asleep, and slept soundly all night. That has never happened before to
anyone’s knowledge. They blame it on a great storm that lasted most of the
night and lulled them to sleep through the entire proceedings.
“Iacomus is
most put out, as he now does not have his miracle man on hand should he need
him.”
Without
warning Decimus burst into loud guffaws and laughed until the tears poured down
his face unhindered. He put a hand to his eyes and wiped them clear, then began
laughing all over again.
“I can not
help it,” Decimus gasped between roars of laughter. “If you could just see
Iacomus, so elegant, so refined, depending on a rustic from the provinces to be
on hand to resurrect him or do a miracle if needed. It made for an amusing
day’s work, I tell you! And Dag, so cool and indifferent to the Emperor and his
whims, speaking his mind and not caring if he offended him. It was like a fresh
wind came to clear out that stuffy Palace with its rigid form. In truth, I
shall miss Dag sorely!”
Marcus could
visualize the picture that Decimus painted so vividly that he too erupted in
laughter, in which he was joined by Decimus who was sent into new fits of
guffaws. Occasionally Decimus interrupted to share some remembrance of Dag’s
sayings or exploits, which renewed their amusement. At last they both sobered
and gasped to catch their breath.
“Well, alright
then,” Decimus said as he rose from his chair. “I accept your apology, but all
is as it has ever been between us.”