by L. M. Roth
It was due to their cries and laughter that Marcus failed to hear the sound of footsteps. He was suddenly startled by the sound of his butler clearing his throat as he stood behind him. Marcus whirled around and saw his faithful butler Otho, who had been a slave to his father and was now a loyal servant to him. Now that Otho had Marcus’ attention, he gestured to the gentleman who stood just behind him whom Marcus had failed to notice.
As he carefully observed the stranger, Marcus wondered why he had not noticed him until Otho directed his gaze to him. For the stranger was imposing, indeed, towering over Otho by several inches, and dressed impeccably in the unmistakable garb of an aristocrat. Marcus judged him to be at least five years older than his own span of forty years, and an air of elegance and fastidiousness fairly exuded from his being, from the top of his head of black curls streaked with silver to his well shod feet clad in sandals of the softest suede.
He remembered his manners and extended his arm in the Valeriun salute. The gentlemen returned it, just as the gust increased and suddenly became a gale that sent the azalea petals flying through the air, along with bits of dust that got into one’s eyes. The cries of the ladies turned from delight to consternation as they squeezed their eyes shut to protect them from the dust. Marcus was suddenly aware that clouds were gathering on the horizon, and the day was quickly fading as a spring thunderstorm threatened to break right over their heads.
Marcus turned back to the stranger.
“Welcome to the Villa Maximus,” he said. “I am Marcus Maximus, and this is my wife, Tullia,” he stated as he gently drew her to his side.
The stranger smiled, showing teeth of dazzling purity and whiteness that were startling in his olive skinned face, yet Marcus suddenly felt an uneasiness prickle his skin without explanation…
“And I am Iacomus Cornelius,” he declared in a voice as smooth and polished as his appearance. “Forgive my intrusion into your meeting, but I have only just arrived in Valerium and was told that you host the meetings for the local body of Alexandrians. My pardon for arriving unannounced without an invitation, but I was eager to meet my fellow believers and decided to take a chance in coming to join you.”
“So you have just arrived in Valerium?” Marcus inquired. “From whence do you hail, then?”
“I hail from Lycenium, sir. But matters of business have brought me to Valerium for a while, and I wish to integrate with the local body here during my stay. I do hope you will permit me to join you.”
Iacomus said this with such an ingratiating smile that Marcus responded with a warm smile of his own. But Tullia wrinkled her brow in thought and gazed at the stranger in perplexity, yet she did not speak.
Marcus had not noticed that the cloudy sky had grown murky with the impending storm, nor the sudden rush of the Alexandrians from his garden into his villa, until a lightning bolt split the darkness and threw the face of Iacomus into relief. He was startled at the change: was that a sneer he detected on the elegant countenance? Or was it merely a trick of the light that cast a sudden sinister shadow over the stranger’s face?
A boom of thunder followed the bolt of lighting and the rain fell upon them in the softly descending showers of May. Into the villa they all scrambled for shelter, as they laughed and wrung out their drenched clothing. Tullia summoned Otho and ordered towels to be distributed to all. Order was restored in a matter of minutes, and Marcus gathered the Alexandrians into the library, where the braziers had been lit to warm and dry them.
The library had always been Marcus’ favorite room in the villa; its hushed atmosphere never failed to soothe and quiet him, and with its shelves of scrolls it imbued a sense of mysteries to be revealed and made known. In his mind there was no better room for him and his friends to explore the mystery of Dominio Himself, and to reveal to one another the knowledge and wisdom that He imparted to each of them.
The sound of the storm came to them as they assembled for their meeting, yet it did not distract them from their purpose in coming together. Marcus began with a prayer of thanksgiving to Dominio, which was added to by others as they chimed in with words given by the Spirit of Dominio to speak to those present; some encouraging that brought smiles of joy, others that were wrapped in mystery and produced puzzled frowns. It was true, Marcus mused, that the meanings of some words were revealed only with the passage of time. At one point an older man struggled to stand and presented a request.
“Please,” he implored. “I have been afflicted with pain in my bones for some years, but lately it has been unendurable. I ask for mercy and healing from Dominio.”
Tullia smiled warmly at him and came forward and laid her hands on his shoulders.
“Good Herminius,” she said, “receive the healing of Dominio and be free of your pain.”
Herminius bowed his head grizzled with the gray hairs of his advanced years and breathed deeply, then suddenly straightened up.
“The pain; it is completely gone! I can stand as straight as I did in my youth. Dominio be praised!” he exulted, and raised his hands to the sky as a smile of radiance lit his face.
Iacomus suddenly stood up.
“I also wish to offer a prayer of thanksgiving to Dominio for leading me to these fellow brethren, where I am certain I shall feel at home. Praise be to Dominio!”
Many of those present greeted Iacomus, and he was soon the center of a circle of laughing friends who hastened to introduce themselves and welcome him into their midst. Iacomus appeared to enjoy the attention and laughed in return. Laughter was a distinctive hallmark of the Alexandrians, as joy was a characteristic that set them apart from those around them, who frequently felt the oppressive weight of the Empire bearing down on them, grinding them into submissive obedience.
As the meeting progressed, however, Marcus became aware that the eyes of Tullia were fastened on Iacomus in profound study. Marcus observed the stranger carefully, as he did with every stranger who came into their midst. Iacomus seemed knowledgeable in the ways and beliefs of the Alexandrians, listening intently to the teaching and joining freely in their prayers.
Yet why did Tullia gaze at the stranger in seeming puzzlement. Did she feel the same uneasiness that he had felt earlier?
After their friends and Iacomus departed, Marcus turned to his wife.
“Well, Tullia?” he inquired as he wrinkled his brow. “Out with it, beloved. What do you make of Iacomus? For I perceive that you sense something amiss in this stranger who has shown up in our midst, even as I do.”
Tullia sighed gently and took her husband’s arm with a confiding air.
“I am puzzled, Marcus. I lived many years in Lycenium, as you know, and am familiar with the name of the Cornelius family. But if my memory is correct, Iacomus Cornelius was sent away from his father’s estate in disgrace and lived in a faraway country. He is also rumored to have died long ago, even before you and I were wed.”
This statement further compounded Marcus’ bewilderment.
“How can this be, then, that he should appear in Valerium now?”
He pondered for a moment; then was inspired with an idea.
“Do you think your mother would have more information? For she must surely know the history of every family of prominence in Lycenium, and could perhaps shed some light on this mystery.”
Tullia glanced at Marcus, and her lips suddenly twitched as a sparkle of mischief sprang into her lovely blue eyes.
“Oh, I am certain she could, Marcus. And I am equally certain that she knows, as you say, the history of every family of prominence in Lycenium.”
Marcus met her eyes just as she was overcome with gales of giggles. He hesitated, and then laughed heartily with her at her mother’s expense. For it was certainly true that Drusilla Octavius was known as the biggest social climber in Lycenium, to the irritation of her friends and the amusement of her daughter. It was also a trait that had nearly brought Tullia to ruin many years ago, a fact that she generously forgave Drusilla as the outcome had been her mar
riage to Marcus.
Tullia’s arm was still entwined in that of her husband, and they turned to face each other to enjoy their merriment all the more. After they sobered, they clung together for a moment as they wiped the tears of laughter from their eyes. As Marcus faced his wife, he was struck anew at how lovely she was. True, there were now fine lines at the corners of the wide azure blue eyes, and silver frosted the locks of ebony black. Yet in his eyes, Tullia was still the same vision of beauty that had haunted his dreams of her so many years ago.
He paused to sigh in appreciation; then brought his attention back to the matter at hand.
“Seriously though, could you write your mother and inquire about the Cornelius family? I am more curious than ever about this stranger, now that I know he is supposed to be dead!”
Tullia nodded.
“Yes dear. I will write her in the morning.”
The answer arrived within a fortnight. Yes, Drusilla gushed, the Cornelius family was one of the oldest and most distinguished families in Lycenium society. But the wicked Iacomus had brought despair to the hearts of his parents when he was only eighteen years old and sent away in disgrace. It was rumored that he had played dice for money and lost a large sum, not large enough to impair the family fortune, but to have gambled at all was considered a dishonor in a society that stressed dignity and restraint in all financial transactions.
Such a scandal was too much for the heart of his mother Nerva, who had suffered severe heart palpitations as a result and was forced, simply forced, to go away for several months to regain her strength. Although to Drusilla it seemed that she really went away until the gossip died down so she would not have to face her friends with such a disgrace hanging over her head.
It was said that Iacomus had gone far away and lived in some outpost of civilization, where it was rumored that he died of a tropical fever. And this was better than he deserved if you asked Drusilla, who felt he should have had to suffer years of despair, even as his mother had, who now would never lay eyes on him again in this world. It was simply too awful, the letter went on…
Here Marcus stopped reading and tossed the letter aside. He loved Tullia with every breath in him and respected her father Tullios for the fierce soldier he once had been and the gallant gentleman he had become in his old age. But it still tried his patience to spend much time with Drusilla, with her preening airs and her endless gossip about those whom she aspired to be like. Where her daughter Tullia possessed the pure and graceful beauty of a swan, carrying herself with the grace and dignity of a lady, Drusilla’s fading looks with her bright blue-green eyes and the robes of garish colors she favored retained the gaudy flamboyance of the peacock, and she spoke in a voice as shrill as its harsh cry.
Her letter did nothing except to deepen the mystery of the stranger. How could Iacomus appear in Valerium if he had died of a fever many years ago? Had the reports of his death been a mistake, or was there some mischief afoot?
Who was Iacomus? And what business brought him to Valerium?
Chapter II
Marcus
Marcus roused himself from his musings as he heard the bell ring, summoning the family to breakfast. Deep in thought, he slowly crossed through the spacious atrium filled with early morning sunlight that dappled the many green luscious plants in urns of bronze that dotted the room and entered the dining room, where he found his wife and daughter already seated for the meal.
His son Lucius was away in Lycenium, where he had been sent for the customary refining process that so many families of their station found a necessity for their sons and daughters. For Lycenium was hailed as the most refined and cultured of all the cities of the Valeriun Empire and one that Marcus himself enjoyed when he and Tullia visited her family. Here one could revel in the finest books known to man, and listen to glorious music such as was heard nowhere else except Heaven itself, and laugh or cry at the comedies and dramas presented in the amphitheater.
Marcus didn’t care as much about society as he did when he was the age of Lucius, having found contentment in being a son of Dominio and a soldier in the cause of Alexandros, and actually balked at sending his son away for the training that he himself had chosen to omit. But Tullia and her family cared greatly about such things, and would have found it a dereliction of duty not to send Lucius in the tradition of families such as theirs.
Marcus grinned as he saw that his sixteen year old daughter Felicia was, as usual, trying to distract her mother from the amount of food she had plied herself with. To her father’s eyes, Felicia was perfect, being a little plump, it was true, but with bright blue eyes and dark curls that danced on her shoulders, although she said she was cursed with the same stubborn forelock that fell on her brow, just as her father was annoyed with that affliction.
To Tullia, however, Felicia presented a problem, one that kept her awake lately as she lay in the dark pondering her daughter’s future. Such thoughts came naturally as the girl was sixteen and would soon be sent to Lycenium, even as her brother had been. For what was one to do with a daughter who not only stuffed herself with food on every possible occasion, but was hopelessly clumsy, forever tripping over anything that lay in her path and leaving numerous breakages of small objects behind her?
Felicia smiled warmly at her father, whom she still adored with the unabashed admiration of a little girl. She believed that he could do anything, a belief that brought tears to Marcus’ eyes as he wished himself as competent as his daughter believed. How good Dominio was to have blessed him with such a family; he who had known pain and loss at the age of seventeen and wandered as an orphan with no place to call home!
Felicia risked a covert glance at Tullia, and surreptitiously helped herself to another roll, slathered with butter that dripped onto her plate. Noting that Tullia’s attention was focused on her own plate and not hers, she bit into the roll and sighed with ecstasy. Too late she saw that her sigh did not escape the notice of her mother.
“Felicia! Have I not told you that so much butter will only make you plump? And your clothes are growing tight as it is! How often must I repeat myself?”
Tullia shook her head and gave her daughter a frown of warning. Felicia wilted. Then her lips tightened as she gave in to her own desire. She raised the roll to her lips, only to be thwarted by Tullia’s quick action: she speedily thrust out a hand and snatched the offending roll from Felicia’s hand just as she opened her mouth to bite into it, only to close it on empty air.
“But, mother, I do not care if I get any plumper!” Felicia exclaimed, her frustration with her short-sighted parent evident in her voice. “I do not want to go to Lycenium and marry into society. You and grandmother care about such things, but I do not.”
“That is not your decision to make, Felicia. A girl in your social position should take pains to be seen at her best, and while I do not advocate marrying for position, Lycenium is necessary for you to marry a decent young man at all.”
“Why do I have to marry into society if I choose not to?” Felicia demanded as she thrust out her lower lip in a manner her father thought charming and her mother denounced as a pout. “That is not what I want to do with my life.”
“Well, that is what you are going to do with your life; there is no other possibility for a young lady in your position,” Tullia announced firmly. “And that is the end of this discussion.”
Felicia opened her mouth to protest, but Tullia raised her hand to silence her. Her daughter sighed and slumped in her seat.
Marcus knew he should stay out of their argument, but he saw the look of hurt in Felicia’s eyes when Tullia silenced her.
“What do you want to do with your life, Felicia? Is there something in particular that beckons you?” he asked in a voice bathed in tenderness as his wife shot him a reproachful look.
“Oh, yes, Father, there is!” Felicia cried as the light sprang back into her eyes at her father’s concern. “I long to travel to Solone to be mentored by Aunt Kyrene! I have heard so much o
f her school there, and how she trains those who are gifted with prophecy. For I have that gift also! How I long to use it to serve Dominio and spread His Kingdom of Heaven on earth!”
Marcus did not greatly care for the look his wife shot him across the table, but he considered that the damage was now done and too late to rectify. The meal proceeded in silence as each avoided looking at the other, preferring their own thoughts to the potentially explosive conversation of the others.
At last, Felicia risked one more chance to state her case to her parents. She took a deep breath as if for courage; then let her words rush out as if in fear that the flow would be stemmed by another lift of her mother’s hand.
“I must tell you that I had a dream, just last night, one that I feel may be very important,” she ventured.
Tullia did not quench the torrent of words, but gave her daughter a look of motherly concern.
She does try to understand Felicia, Marcus thought. And Tullia is far from being the social climber that Drusilla is. She is merely trying to teach Felicia as she herself was taught. What could be more natural than that?
Except that for Felicia, her mother may as well have been trying to teach her daughter a foreign language, one whose words and cadences would forever be unintelligible gibberish to her, and the meaning unknown.
“Yes?” Tullia inclined her head at Felicia. “Proceed, child.”
Felicia exhaled slowly and searched for words.
“In the dream, I saw a man who lay as one dead. Then he rose up from his bed, and with him rose fire and destruction, and screams filled the night as people fled from before him. I saw buildings cast to the ground and those who saw him fled from his coming.”
Felicia paused and shuddered. Marcus waited patiently for her to go on. It was evident that the dream had affected her deeply.
“And then, I heard these words in my head: “‘Beware of the one who rises from the dead, he will bring destruction in the days ahead. The smoke of flames burning shall block out the sun. One kingdom shall rise as another is done.’ ”
