The Order

by E P Lenz

  Contents

  Contents

  44 BCE

  64 BCE

  Night of Terror

  Brooch of Destiny

  Chosen

  Yearning

  Omens of Change

  Broken Alliance

  Brutal Reality

  Deadly Secrets

  Prophecy

  Revealed

  Fateful Night

  As an author, I appreciate the feedback I get from my readers. It helps others to make an informed decision when they buy my books. If you enjoy this book, please consider leaving a short review.

  44 BCE

  The red stains on the snow-white togas of the nobles filing out of the Curia in the Theater of Pompey went unnoticed. Or, if they were noticed, no one had the audacity to comment on the stains. It was only hours later, when the slaves had brought the bloodied, lifeless body of Caesar to Calpurnia, when the red stains had spread far and wide in the Roman empire, that the whispers started.

  The Liberatores killed Caesar in the Curia! Julius Caesar is dead! It was Queen Anselperga’s plan. Who rules now? What of Rome? WHAT OF US?

  The whispers never saw the light of day. They died in the same quiet, dark halls where they were born. And those that were whispering? They died too. Horrible, bloody deaths, just like their Caesar!

  It was the year 45 BCE. Not even a year had passed since Gaius Julius Caesar had declared himself king for all his life. Queen Anselperga of the Lombards had hated it with every fiber of her being. And so had Lord Gregory, her loyal subject. Queen Anselperga was responsible for the death of Caesar as surely as it was Lord Gregory’s hand that had stabbed the king to death.

  Striding up to the queen, Gregory bent his knee, bowed his head, and in a subdued voice, reported, “My queen. It is done!”

  “I have heard of the unfortunate incident at the Theater of Pompey,” the queen said graciously. There was nothing kind about the cold smile that stretched across her lips. She added, “Rise, Lord Gregory. You are now to serve as the chief diplomat and political advisor to the empire.”

  Lord Gregory stood to his full height beside his Queen. He was not a tall man, but his bulk dwarfed the slight queen. “I am honored, Queen Anselperga,” he replied in a humble voice. There was nothing humble about the smile that he shared with his cruel and calculating queen.

  “You may go now,” ordered the queen.

  Lord Gregory bowed low and turned to leave when the queen added, “Remember who you are serving, Gregory, and you will be much more than a chief diplomat.”

  If Gregory had been a lesser man, the queen’s veiled threat would have sent a shiver down his spine. As it was, Gregory was just as cruel and calculating as the queen he served. He simply saluted the queen and murmured, “Always, my queen, always.”

  Gregory eased his large bulk into the richly appointed litter and ordered the slaves to take him home. The deed was done. Now the real work began. There was a vacuum in the upper echelons of leadership and Gregory was determined to fill it ... first and foremost, with himself.

  As the slaves’ feet pattered softly on the cobbled streets of Rome, he looked out through the slit in the curtains of his litter. There was chaos in the streets of Rome. He was disgusted to see the people running around like mindless sheep, wailing hysterically for their dead ruler. They had to be brought under control. They had to be shown who the new leader was. A gleeful smile erupted on Gregory’s face. He would not leave an ounce of doubt to who that was!

  Men in tattered clothes were breaking down doors and windows of shops, carrying out everything that they perceived as valuable; nobody stopped them. Opportunists. He understood them very well. After all, they were much like himself. Making the most of an unstable situation. Killing their enemies while there was no one to enforce any law. He saw women and children running, perhaps trying to get to their houses before the rioters turned on them.

  Gregory was overjoyed to see the aftermath of Caesar’s death. He was proud that he was one of the architects of this upheaval. He was going to enjoy using his whips and daggers to bring the people to heel and establish himself as their new lord and master.

  Back at his villa, he summoned Romanus Clavus. The tall, muscular captain of the Royal Guard appeared before Lord Gregory. “My Lord, you summoned?”

  “Clavus, the first three to be removed are Manius Acilius Glabrio, Marcus Aemilius Scaurus, Gaius Asinius Pollio, and all of their clans alongside.” Gregory got straight to the point. He did not have time for stating the obvious. Julius Caesar was dead. The real work was just beginning.

  The first three families that he had ordered removed had been the strongest supporters of the deceased Julius Caesar. They were just the tip of the iceberg, though. Gregory had no doubt that, come morning, the three families would have been wiped from the face of the earth. He sat down to make a list of the scores of others that had to be weeded out. He needed to ensure that there was no one left to sow the seeds of dissent against the queen, and more importantly, against him. After all, he did not expect to remain second to the queen all his life! He had much bigger plans.

  As night fell on that fateful day, Gregory was still in his tablinum, working on the dreadful list, effectively sealing the fates of hundreds of men, women, and even children. The door opened and Romanus Clavus walked in. He snapped a salute to his master and informed him, “Lord Gregory, it is done.”

  Romanus had accomplished the gruesome task even faster than Gregory had anticipated. But then, Romanus was nearly as cruel as Gregory himself, if not more! He enjoyed inflicting pain on helpless people, playing God to their pitiful existence.

  “That is good, Clavus. Come. I wish to show you what lies ahead,” Gregory rumbled.

  Clavus strode further into the room to stand beside Gregory. He looked at the list that Gregory showed him. Understanding its purpose without having to be told. He then cleared his throat and asked, “My Lord, a suggestion, if I may?”

  “Hmm,” Gregory grunted.

  Romanus continued, “My Lord, why kill them all when they can help us fill our coffers further? Some of these will fetch a handsome price as slaves,” he ended with a cold smile.

  Gregory instantly agreed to the suggestion. He and Romanus were indeed cut from the same cloth!

  Within the next few days, Gregory, along with his trusty Romanus Clavus, slaughtered and enslaved hundreds of men, women, and innocent children. Scores of noble families were blotted out of existence. The streets of Rome were painted red by the blood of enemies of the state. Their cries imprinted on others who their new leader was.

  Lord Gregory the Great!

  64 BCE

  She loved the way the fresh spring wind wove through her hair. She loved the sweet fragrance of wildflowers that seemed to cover the forest and her garden, as if in a soft blanket. She loved the chitter of newly hatched birds and the grumblings of the young animals as they tried to emulate their parents. It made for a very entertaining dialogue. Of course, it was only Lady Diana who was privy to these fun conversations of the animal kind.

  Her rebellious hair had escaped the tight braid in which she had confined it before going for her morning ride. But Diana didn’t care. She rubbed down her beautiful tan mare, Bella, and hurried to check up on how Aurelia, the pregnant mare, was doing. She hugged Aurelia and asked the foal if he was ready to come and greet the world. She chuckled as she got an emphatic NO in response.

  “Lord Titus, Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus has defeated Pontus. His influence on the Senate will now be much greater when he comes back to Rome a victor ...”

  Lord Dennison stopped midsentence as the door to the atrium was flung open, followed by a patter of soft footfalls. The fiery-haired maiden who had stopped abruptly just inside the doors took his breath awa
y. She had obviously not been expecting to find company in the atrium. Lord Titus was the first to break the silence, as both Dennison and Diana seemed to have lost their powers of speech.

  “Lord Dennison, my daughter, Diana,” Lord Titus introduced.

  Diana sketched a quick curtsey with a shy smile. Her eyes were anything but shy, though. They seemed to challenge Lord Dennison. But challenge him for what? No matter. Dennison was sure of one thing. He was going to ask Lord Titus for permission to court the beautiful lady in front of him.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Lady Diana,” the tall, dark-haired man said with a respectful nod. Diana loved the sound of his voice. He had the sharpest blue eyes she had ever seen. They looked exactly like the spring sky outside and she loved it!

  ***

  Over the next few days, Dennison took every opportunity to spend time with Diana, visiting as often as he could. He loved talking to her and very soon came to respect her immense knowledge of the nature around her. It almost seemed to him that she was somehow in communication with the plants and animals around her.

  The walk in the starlit garden was one of Diana’s favorite activities of the day. The first time Dennison had come for a visit after the sun had gone down and suggested that they go for a walk, she had been eager to go, but worried about whether or not her father would allow that. To her surprise, Lord Titus did not seem to mind at all! After that, every night, Lord Dennison had visited, sometimes taking her for long walks in the garden, and at other times for gentle rides around the town.

  “I love the garden at night,” Diana sighed as she walked with her hand in Dennison’s, not a month from their first meeting.

  “Diana, I am going to ask your father for his permission to marry you,” Dennison said, as he looked into the forest- green eyes of Diana.

  Diana was happy. She had come to love Lord Dennison in the short time they had spent together. He was a warrior with a kind heart. She knew very few men like him who were strong and yet gentle. Yes, she would very much like to be Lord Dennison’s wife.

  ***

  “You will not wed her,” boomed Gregory as he stormed into the tablinum.

  Lord Dennison’s head snapped up from the tablet on his desk that he was studying. He knew his younger brother, Gregory, was a hothead. But he had never before shown this kind of disrespect toward Dennison.

  “Explain yourself,” Lord Dennison demanded. His voice was deceptively low, but the command and the message were clear as day. Dennison did not appreciate this kind of behavior from his younger brother.

  “I will inform the Senate that you broke the Lex Acilia Calpurnia. I will tell them that you accepted various bribes from Lord Titus, including this woman, when you were seeking your position on the Senate.”

  Lord Dennison was shocked. He knew Gregory was cruel and deceitful, but he had not expected this of him. He wondered what objection Gregory could possibly have against his marriage to Diana.

  “That is a serious accusation, and a false one, that you are willing to make, Gregory. How are you going to prove it?” Dennison asked calmly.

  Gregory walked over to a bureau near the window and pulled out several leaves of papyrus bound together with a leather tie. Bringing them over to Dennison, he loosened the tie and slid the leaves closer to him. Dennison was, once again, shocked to see lists of forged transactions between himself and Lord Titus, along with a few other nobles. Gregory had been working on this for some time!

  Lord Dennison could not begin to imagine the purpose of this, but then, most times Gregory didn’t need a clear purpose to be spiteful. Be it as it may, this was something Dennison could not overlook as it would not only affect his own career, but also that of Lord Titus.

  ***

  “That is preposterous!” Lord Titus roared as soon as Dennison finished recounting Gregory’s actions.

  “Indeed it is, but he has forged piles of documents, and he must be taken seriously,” Lord Dennison stated the obvious.

  “I don’t have to like it,” grumbled Titus as Dennison walked away with heavy steps, looking for Diana. He was going to break her heart.

  “You are giving up on our love for your career?” Diana shrieked incredulously. “You never did love me, did you?”

  Dennison hugged her tight, rested his chin on her head and gently explained, “I love you, my dove. But if I am unable to prove Gregory’s documents as forgeries, it will destroy your father too. I will gladly give up my seat in the Senate, even my riches, to have you by my side. Never doubt that.”

  “Take me with you, then,” Diana insisted. “Don’t marry me. Just take me with you.”

  Dennison was shocked. “What are you saying, Diana? I will not have people call you my concubine.”

  “Why do you care, if I don’t?” she challenged.

  Oh! How he loved his fiery, auburn-haired Domina!

  “And what of our children?” He needed her to realize that this decision would have long-reaching consequences. It was not just about the two of them. Her answer had him crumbling.

  “Our child will be so much stronger with our love.”

  And so it was, that in spite of Gregory’s elaborate scheme to keep Diana and Dennison apart, the two did come together.

  Lord Dennison knew that the gods had blessed their blasphemous decision when he and Diana held the gift of their love in their arms for the first time. The beautiful auburn-haired green-eyed little bundle of joy was their deliverance. They called her Chiara.

  Night of Terror

  Chiara grew up basking in the love of both her mother and her father. She grew up seeing them love and respect each other. For several years, she wasn’t aware of what the people were saying behind her back. Mocking her for being born out of wedlock, sneering at her parents for not being married in front of the gods.

  Even if she did hear, Chiara never thought anything of the whispers. They were simply that—spiteful rumors that would blow away with the next gust of wind.

  And then, one day, she was playing with a bunch of children in the courtyard of her parents’ villa, when one of the girls started telling the others to not play with the ill-born. Chiara was shocked and hurt. With tears running down her cheeks, she ran inside to her mother to ask her why the girl had called her that hurtful name. That was the first time her mother told her the story of their love and her birth.

  “Amica mea, do not listen to what such people say. They do not understand love. Just know that your father and I love you very much.” her mother had said, tears in her eyes. Still, she knew she did not regret her decision. May the universe throw at them what it could, for she had something greater! “And nothing will ever change that,” she’d said with a sense of finality. Chiara had decided to do just that, and from then on, she’d ignored anyone who tried to call her names.

  She was ten and two years old when the blessed life that she had been living turned to dust.

  She wished her father, Lord Dennison, good night, just like any other day. Her mother, Lady Diana, tucked her in for the night in her room, just like any other day. Lady Diana sat with little Chiara, telling her wonderful stories and singing to her in her sweet voice until she fell asleep, just like any other day. Nothing was out of place. Or so Chiara thought, before slipping off into a quiet, dream-filled sleep.

  Deep into the night, Chiara woke up suddenly. At first she could not fathom what it was that had caused her to wake up in the night. She knew it wasn’t the sounds echoing around her house. No, she was woken by a soft whisper that seemed to be coming from right inside her head. It was a quiet and softly insistent voice, but it pulled her from peaceful slumber, drenching her in cold sweat. And yet, she realized it wasn’t the voice itself that terrified her to the bone, but what the voice said.

  Chiara trembled, trying to see through the thick darkness smothering her sight, looking for who had whispered such a thing to her. She could not see anyone in her chambers. Her eyes were drawn to the open window, to the bright twin stars of an o
wl’s eyes. They seemed to be looking straight at her. An unspoken, undefinable sense of understanding passed between the owl and her. Somewhere deep inside her, she knew that it was the owl that had warned her. She continued to look at the owl, as if willing it to speak to her again. But the owl simply sat there, looking at her for the longest time. And then she felt it again.

  “Your father and mother are in great danger,” it said again inside her mind, eyes filled with sorrow for the young girl who was about to lose her parents. It hooted once, and Chiara could no longer understand it as it flew off into the night sky, disappearing into the vast inky blackness.

  Chiara bolted up from her bed, terror rendering her slower than normal. She was shivering, sweat soaking through her soft muslin nightshirt. The voice had been peaceful. She tried unsuccessfully to calm herself. It shouldn’t scare me so! Still, she knew that her panic had never been about the voice itself, but rather the message that it had conveyed. Chiara scrambled out of her bed, rushing to the door of her chamber with only one thought in her mind. Her mother and father! She had to get to her mother and father. Their chamber was not far from hers. She had to save them.

  Her feet padded against the warm rug in the hall, almost silent. Chiara could barely see, but the thought had barely pierced her mind before she tripped over a fallen vase. She crashed to the ground, cutting her soft palms on the sharp edges of the vase. But fear clouded her pain and she barely glanced at her bleeding hands and knees before getting up and taking off once more.

  Sounds. At first she was not sure if it was the sounds inside her head, the loud ringing in her ears, or sounds that were coming from outside.

  Then she heard it. Her mother’s muffled scream. Sounds of struggle coming from her parents’ room. Blunt thuds, as if large bodies were colliding with each other. And then a crash. Metal. As if swords had been raised and engaged. A screeching sound, like a knife slashing across armor. A groan. Her father.

  And then there was silence. Complete, utter, choking silence. Even the ringing in her ears seemed to have stopped. Chiara stopped in her tracks, tears filling her eyes and rendering her blind. Deep in her heart, she knew what this silence heralded.