Authors: L. M. Roth
They married,
but not with the blessing of Dag or Judoc. For the great man from Trekur Lende
held firm to his stance: if Melisande did not serve Dominio, no good would come
of their union. Judoc asked Brenus what land Melisande came from, and he was
dismayed to realize that she had never told him. But did that truly matter, he
asked himself. They had fallen in love so quickly that such questions seemed
irrelevant to their happiness. He trusted her completely.
Shortly before
the wedding day Brenus ventured to sound out Melisande concerning her beliefs.
Although it was not the answer that Dag and Judoc would have liked, Brenus
found it acceptable to him.
“Melisande,”
he began, “I must make arrangements for the marriage ceremony and I need to
know your preference. What kind of service do you have in your homeland?”
She looked at
him blankly, her eyes appearing to look through him and beyond to something that
only she could see. Then she gave a little start and shrugged her shoulders.
“You decide,
Brenus,” she replied. “I have no preference.”
“But I must
know if you have a particular rite that is performed in your land.”
“Rite?” she
wrinkled her nose slightly and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Rite of
ceremony, a ritual,” Brenus explained.
He found her
response puzzling. Surely she must know what a rite was!
“Why, I have
no inkling,” she answered. “We do not have such things in my land.”
“You do not
have any rites! Why, what kind of land do you hail from, Melisande?”
She bristled
perceptibly as though affronted.
“I hail from a
good
land! In my land we are free to love and live and laugh! We do not
have any dealings with rites and deities, for all they do is impose
restrictions and rules. ‘Do this!’ ‘Don’t do that!’ That is all they are good
for!”
Brenus
swallowed hard.
“Well, in the
village of Leith, we serve Dominio, the One true God. We must have the proper
rites in the ceremony. What kind of answer is that to give to my mother and
father?”
Melisande
regarded him with something he would have regarded as a sneer in someone else,
but he could not believe her capable of such.
“You may tell
them, Brenus,” she stated in a voice that seemed to drip with sarcasm, “that I
believe in
love
.”
Brenus pondered
her response. He knew in his heart that neither Dag nor Judoc would be happy
with it. And yet…
“Well, Dominio
is
Love!” he exclaimed. “He is Love itself. So that is what we shall
tell them!”
And he eagerly
kissed her lips, seeming oblivious to the fact that they were curled in scorn.
That Cort did
not like Melisande was soon evident to Brenus. When he introduced her to Dag
and Judoc a few days before the ceremony they were courtesy itself, although he
knew they were not happy about his choice of a bride. As he presented her to
Dag, her eyes widened at the sight of him, then darkened inexplicably. The
sight of Dag was an imposing one: he stood a head taller than most men, and
still retained the appearance of a bear masquerading as a man with his shaggy
head of brown hair, large black eyes and long limbs.
But to his
surprise Melisande tightened her lips and gave Dag a cold, tight little smile.
Perhaps, he thought, she resents their attitude to the marriage and that is why
she looks at him with resentment. To his further astonishment, the smile
Melisande bestowed on Judoc was warm and rather shy, as she bowed her head
modestly after greeting her. She gave every appearance of a young girl who
wished to appease the mother of the man she was to wed.
His younger
siblings exhibited milder reactions to his bride. Dirk was the eldest at
nineteen, already grown to manhood and with the same imposing appearance as his
father. The look of approval in his eye when he glanced at Melisande was
somewhat stronger than Brenus would have liked, but it was clear that he
approved of his brother’s choice. His younger brother Brand blushed when he was
introduced, but at twelve he still found young ladies an exotic species that he
was not certain he wanted to make a closer acquaintance with.
It was obvious
that sixteen year old Maelys, as tall and willowy as a water lily herself with
her mother’s coppery curls and bright blue eyes, looked on Melisande as a rival
for attention. It was true that the young men were already flocking around
Maelys, only to be intimidated by Dag, who guarded his daughter as zealously as
a knight would a young queen. Nolwenn was only just thirteen and regarded her
older sister as the font of all knowledge; yet she seemed as delighted by her
new sister-in-law as Brenus was.
“Aye, you’ve
got a fair one, brother!” Dirk exclaimed as he extended a hand of
congratulation to his brother.
Melisande was
busy at the moment talking with Judoc about wedding plans, and Brenus had
clustered with his younger siblings momentarily.
“How pretty
she is!” Nolwenn agreed. “I do hope she shares some of her beauty secrets with
me.”
Maelys snorted
in a most unladylike manner.
“Why would she
do that?” she asked. “She has not even told Brenus…” her voice trailed off as
Dirk shot her a glance of warning.
She contented
herself with a wry smile and said nothing further as she cast a watchful
scrutiny on her sister-in-law to be.
Only Cort,
Brenus noted with dismay, responded to Melisande in a manner that denoted more
hostility than hospitality. Why this should be was a mystery to Brenus. It was
clear that Dag, who still held a special place in his heart for Cort above that
of his siblings, had confided to him Melisande’s reluctance to reveal her
origins. As for her beliefs, Brenus told Dag and Judoc that she believed in the
God of love, but neglected to tell them that Melisande had actually excluded
“God” from her declaration.
It would
appear that Cort, however, sensed something amiss and was wary of his new
relative. Their introduction was an event that would stand out in his memory
for some time to come.
Cort had been
away for several days before the wedding and did not meet Melisande until after
the ceremony.
“Cort! Come,
you must meet my bride, Melisande!” he exclaimed eagerly as he took his brother
by the arm and dragged him to where Melisande was surrounded by well wishers
from the village.
Melisande was
radiant as she received the good wishes of old friends of the family, and her
smile lit her face with the glow of a candle throwing off the shadows of night.
She flashed a look of triumph at Brenus as he approached, basking in the
welcome of the local folk. He clasped her hand and gently led her out of the
circle and presented her to Cort.
A flash of
fire was exchanged between them, the source of which he did not know. Was it as
their eyes met, or was it after they greeted one another? Something happened,
but what it was he did not know…
“Welcome,
sister,” Cort said, as he bowed over her hand.
“Thank you,
brother,” Melisande replied, quickly veiling her eyes with her lids, then
glancing up at him once more.
“I understand
you are a stranger to Eirinia,” Cort remarked.
“Yes, I am
newly come to your shores,” she answered. “But I am sure I will find Eirinia
very much to my liking. Very much indeed.”
Cort frowned
suddenly, and gave her a look of perplexity.
“Have we met
before? For your voice is strangely familiar to me.”
Melisande
laughed slightly and shook her head.
“No, we have
not. I am sure I would remember if we had.”
Cort, however,
persisted in his interrogation.
“Yes, there is
something about your voice. I know I have heard it before, or one similar.
Where are you from, Melisande?”
Melisande
bristled and answered indirectly.
“And where are
you
from? Your voice does not have the same accents as the rest of the
villagers. You are not from Eirinia yourself, are you, brother?”
Cort shook his
head.
“No, I am not
from Eirinia, but from Trekur Lende far to the north.”
“Trekur
Lende!” Melisande exclaimed as her eyes widened inexplicably, but quickly recovered
herself. “That is, I mean to say, really? From that far away?”
“Have you
heard of Trekur Lende?” Cort asked her with a quizzical look.
“Yes, I
believe I have heard of it in passing, somewhere. Is it not a wild country full
of untamed barbarians?”
Cort laughed.
“I have not
heard myself called such in years! Not since Felix…” his voice trailed away and
he gazed off into the distance.
Then he turned
back to Melisande.
They looked
one another fully in the eye, and then she spoke.
“How did you
come to Eirinia from Trekur Lende, Cort? It is a long journey, and not one that
most people would take I am sure. For what could have brought you here, to a
land that many would not find hospitable?”
“They would
not find Trekur Lende any more hospitable I am certain!” Cort laughed.
“However, I came here with my father more than twenty years ago. The land
itself was incidental in our journey, but we stayed when he married Judoc.”
Melisande
started, and then paled as though she had received a jolt of surprise.
“Judoc is not
your mother then? You came here with Dag? From Trekur Lende? Is your real
mother dead?” and her voice rose until it cracked as she questioned him.
Cort narrowed
his eyes and stared at her intently.
“No, my mother
is not dead. And Dag is not my father, really. He adopted me after I ran away
from home. My parents know this; they know I am with him.”
Melisande drew
her breath in sharply and grew paler still.
“Oh!” she whispered.
She glanced
from Cort to Brenus in apparent dismay.
“What have I
done?” she murmured under her breath.
Yet they both
heard, and wondered at her words.
Just then
Judoc came over to the group. She laughed as she took hold of Melisande’s hand.
“Come, Melisande.
The maids are wondering when you will throw the bridal favor. They are all
eager to see who shall wed next!”
Brenus was
startled to hear the giggles emanating from the waiting maidens. So intent was
he on watching his wife and his brother that he was oblivious to all else
around him. Now he noted the prevailing note of gaiety, the smell of the peat
fire that warmed the room from the chill of the autumn dusk, the spicy apple
aroma of the hot punch that was passed round in celebration.
Melisande went
with Judoc docilely. In fact, Brenus thought, she seemed rather relieved. She
greeted the assembled maidens with a dazzling smile and they clustered in a
circle around her like attendants on a young queen.
He turned back
to Cort, who looked after Melisande with a puzzled frown furrowing his
forehead.
“Who is this
bride of yours, Brenus? And why did she suddenly seem so dismayed?”
Brenus was as
mystified as his brother.
“I do not
know, Cort. I am as much in the dark as you are.”
Cort still
stared at Melisande with a boring gaze, as if intent on baring the secrets of
her soul.
“Well, you
should have discovered before taking her to wife, brother. For no good will
come of this marriage; that I warrant!”
And Cort did
not wait for his response, but stalked out of the hut and into the glooming
twilight.
A gentle
breeze was blowing in Solone. It stirred the leaves of a majestic acacia tree
that crowned the top of the hill. How long it had stood there no one was
certain. It had always stood there, so far as anyone knew, and would stand
there until the end of time.
Its antiquity
had much in common with the odd little house that was the only visible invasion
of man upon the hilltop. Cut into the rock itself it was, surrounded by rocks
on all sides. It was said that it was the only remaining structure of a city
that had stood here long ago. But a mighty volcanic eruption had destroyed the
city and much of the surrounding terrain, leaving only rocky promontories of
hardened lava formed from the destruction, and a small inland sea far below
where the crater had once spewed out smoke and ash.
The sound of
the sea not far away boomed as heavy waves crashed with a monotonous regularity
on the shore. Gulls overhead screeched as they flew in their search for food.
Only the sound of the waves and the gulls gave any indication of life in this
place of bleak isolation. To a casual traveler it would appear that the place
was uninhabited, left to nature to take it back following the volcano’s fury.
But they would
be wrong in their assumption. For in the house was an inhabitant, and that
inhabitant was at that very moment, conducting a school.
“Bless those
that curse you,” said a clear young voice.
“Do to others
what you would have them do to you,” said another.
“Honor your
father and mother.”
“Forgive
others, just as you have been forgiven.”
“Very good!”
the teacher exclaimed. “What a good class you are! You have studied hard, and
it shows.”
She suddenly clapped
her hands in dismissal.
“That is all
for today. We shall meet again after you break your fast in the morning.”
Her pupils
bestowed joyous smiles upon her as they left. She returned them, delighting in
the young girls who came for instruction each day from the village below. Soon
they had all departed and she was left alone.
Kyrene sighed
and stretched her arms overhead. How stiff remaining in the same position made
one! Or perhaps it was merely a symptom of approaching age, she thought wryly.
She decided to
step outdoors and enjoy what remained of the day before preparing the evening
meal. She ambled leisurely around the hilltop and selected a spot under the
shade of the acacia tree. The sound of the sea slapping the shore soothed her
as she sat down and sighed again. She reached into the pocket of her robe for
the letter that had arrived by post that morning.
“My dear
Kyrene,
“It is with
great sadness that I write to tell you of events that have lately transpired in
Valerium. With the coming of the spring, a stranger arrived in our midst who
was quickly welcomed by both the Alexandrians and the leading men of Potentus.
His name is Iacomus Cornelius. There is a great mystery clinging to him, as I
know from my girlhood in Lycenium that his family cast him out of it when he
was very young. It is said in Lycenium that he died many years ago, yet here he
has turned up in Valerium! Marcus and I felt some apprehension regarding him
from the first, yet we bade him welcome as did everyone. How sadly misplaced
our trust was we soon discovered.
“Iacomus rose
rapidly in favor with nearly all who knew him. He started speaking in prophecy
among the Alexandrians, yet they did not feel valid in their words. But how
eagerly our fellow believers hung on his words that reeked of flattery! His
opinion was sought in the city, and daily he was the center of attention among
the men of importance. Only our old friend Justus Lucius shared our doubts.
Emperor Urbanus, I am sorry to relate, took him in as though he were a friend
he had not seen for many years.
“Alas, Emperor
Urbanus seems to have exchanged one friend for another, as he cast Marcus and me
out of Valerium, and seized our home. Yes, you may well be shocked, knowing as
you do what a good and faithful friend Urbanus was to my Marcus when he needed
one sorely. The Emperor, my dear Kyrene, has been told that the Alexandrians
pledge allegiance to the Kingdom of Heaven and that must not be, as we place it
higher than our allegiance to Valerium. And our commitment to Dominio is also a
source of contention, as he does not like our pledging ourselves to the service
of anyone other than the Emperor.
“As a result,
the Alexandrians are forbidden to meet in Valerium. And any who pledge
allegiance to the Kingdom of Heaven are regarded as traitors, and their lands
and possessions are forfeit to the Empire. And this is what has happened to our
family, Kyrene.
“Can you
believe this? We have had to flee Valerium, as have our other friends who are
scattered to I know not where. We hope and pray that they are safe, but we have
not yet heard from any of them.
“Our
comfort is Logos. When Marcus consulted the Sword, he was told, ‘
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for
theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.’ As always, the Sword spoke Truth and seemed
to know what is happening in our lives at all times. We must console ourselves
that we did no wrong, and indeed, had the blessing of Emperor Urbanus to meet
openly from the very beginning in Valerium. But those days are no more.
“We
shall settle in Lycenium, where my mother still has an estate. We know that
there are some Alexandrians in the city who have the freedom to meet openly, at
least at present. Our son Lucius has been here for some time, studying and
preparing for the day he will take his position in the Maximus family. Although
what that will be now we do not know, as the estate in Valerium has been
confiscated by the Empire.
“Our
daughter Felicia is another matter entirely, and it is of her that my primary
concern is in writing this letter to you. As you know, she has been exhibiting
a gift of prophecy for a few years, and lately seems to be growing in that
gift. Indeed, it was she who warned us of Iacomus through a dream she had not
long after his arrival.
“It
has been my desire for her to have a season in Lycenium to prepare her for
marriage. She is adamant, however, that she wants no part of it, and would like
to come to Solone and be mentored in your school for young ladies with similar
gifting. I had denied her request when she first asked permission, but in view
of what has lately transpired and how accurate her dream was, I have changed my
mind and decided to grant her permission to come to you for a while.
“You
know she will not be an easy charge, having a tendency to argue with authority
at times, although done not from rebellion but a desire to be heard and to
reason for herself in arriving at the truth. Also, she is over fond of food and
indulges herself far too much at table. I wish this to stop, as she is becoming
quite plump, and give you full permission to deny her food according to your
discretion of an adequate portion of a meal.
“We
shall be paying you a visit and if Felicia is acceptable to you, we shall leave
her with you. I warn you that she will be difficult, but she is affectionate
when content, and I do not think you would regret training her to become the
woman Dominio desires her to be.
“I
remain your affectionate friend,
Tullia
Maximus”
Kyrene
sighed deeply, letting her breath out slowly as she read the contents of the
letter. How tragic! She found it incredible that Emperor Urbanus, the Governor
Urbanus of her memory, who had been such a wonderful friend to Marcus, should
so turn against him as to confiscate his property. Why, this Iacomus must be an
instrument of the Astra themselves!
As
for taking charge of Felicia, she found the prospect delightful. She knew that
the girl’s plumpness and awkwardness were incomprehensible to Tullia, who had
always been a great beauty. But Kyrene found her endearing, and as for
challenging authority, had she not done the same all of her life?
A
shadow fell upon her letter. So absorbed had she been in reading it, and so
loud the boom of the waves on the shore below, that she had not heard the
approach of footsteps. She glanced up, but someone stood between her and the
sun, and she could not see his face.
She
stood up and moved slightly to the side and turned to face her visitor. He
seemed familiar, yet different, as though she might have known him long ago.
He
was tall and lean, with dark waves of hair flicked with silver around his
hairline. His brown eyes were warm and his smile of greeting went beyond the
friendliness of a new acquaintance as he beamed at her. He bowed slightly and
laughed as she studied him, whether amused at her bewilderment or whether glad
to see her she could not tell.
Then
he laughed and held out his hand.
“Hello,
Kyrene. It is Stephanos. Do you still remember me? For I have never forgotten
you.”