by L. M. Roth
Marcus decided that he would not take offense at their amusement at his expense.
“Tell me, Iosephus, how is the pain in your joints these days? I recall that you were afflicted quite badly over the winter. Have you had any improvement during the spring months?”
Iosephus looked somewhat sheepishly at Marcus. It was true that during the winter he had limped in pain while escorting Marcus and Tullia into the Emperor’s presence at a banquet and found himself confiding his problem when prompted by Tullia. She had immediately offered to pray for him, much to his discomfiture. Marcus observed that he was walking today without any seeming impediment.
“Well,” Iosephus fumbled. “I have had some improvement since you last saw me. Perhaps it was due to your lady’s care and concern. I do not know about this Dominio you pray to, but perhaps just knowing someone had compassion eased my pain.”
He gave a stiff little bow to Marcus.
Odelius looked somewhat abashed as well, as he lowered his head and glanced up at Marcus from the corner of his eyes. He then shrugged his shoulders and smiled reluctantly at Marcus; a real smile with none of his usual smirking.
“May it go well with you today, sir,” he said in a somewhat unsteady voice. “It truly is pleasant to know that someone sees us as more than just the Emperor’s servants.”
Marcus returned the smile warmly and they proceeded in amiable silence to the Emperor’s Throne Room.
If he had any lingering doubt, the expression on the face of the Emperor erased it at once. Urbanus appeared troubled and the smile he gave his old friend did not quite reach his eyes. For such a warm and friendly man as he, that fact alone warned Marcus that this interview would not be easy.
“Ah, Marcus!” the Emperor gestured for him to be seated on a stool placed before the throne.
Marcus obeyed and waited in trepidation with palms suddenly gone wet with perspiration and a queer beating of his heart; waiting for he knew not what…
They spent a few moments speaking desultorily of trivial things. To Marcus it seemed that Urbanus wanted to take the sting off of whatever he was about to say. He now fretted for whatever tidings he was about to receive to be imparted, and threw his head back with increasing frustration.
Urbanus finally noticed his agitation and came to the point.
“I have had some news that I find rather disturbing, Marcus,” he began.
He paused a moment as though searching for words, while Marcus riveted his gaze on the Emperor as he hung on his next words.
“What news, Your Grace?” he ventured to ask, in an attempt for Urbanus to stop keeping him in suspense.
He was not prepared for what came next.
Urbanus plunged in.
“I have been hearing tales of you and your Alexandrians, my old friend. Tales I have been most reluctant to believe, yet they persist. As you know, I have been very tolerant in permitting your sect to meet openly, although I am not clear as to what you actually believe. But the news lately has troubled me greatly.”
Iacomus, Marcus thought. His daughter was right.
“What have you heard, Your Grace? I have been very open in sharing with you the beliefs of the Alexandrians, how Alexandros came to us to live among us and take the punishment on our behalf for our treason against Dominio in siding with Leon, the Lord of the Astra. Dominio desires our love and commitment in service to Him. What else have you been told?”
Urbanus looked him directly in the eye and Marcus felt a small quiver of apprehension.
“Yes, you have told me this already, and although I can not quite grasp such a concept myself, I have allowed you full freedom. But how is that you have never told me of your allegiance to another kingdom? You pledge your allegiance to a kingdom other than Valerium? How is that?”
Marcus swallowed hard. This was going to be worse than he thought.
“Our allegiance is to spreading Dominio’s Kingdom of Heaven on Earth as we share it with others. It is a set of laws that deal with our hearts, and we submit them to Him and declare Him the Lord of our lives.”
Marcus hoped that would satisfy Urbanus, but the Emperor now looked at him with the unblinking gaze of someone who is determined to bore a hole in his soul.
“Yet you declare allegiance to this “kingdom”? Even a greater allegiance than to the Empire of Valerium?”
Marcus’ mouth went so dry that he found speech difficult. His heart now pounded so loudly that he was surprised that Urbanus did not hear it and remark on it.
“Yes, Your Grace: my allegiance to the Kingdom of Heaven is even greater than my allegiance to the Valeriun Empire,” he finally managed to speak through lips that felt like rubber and the sound of his voice distant to his own ears.
Urbanus looked at him with eyes wide in disbelief. For a very long moment he looked at Marcus as if seeing him for the first time. Then he slowly shook his head.
“And what of your allegiance to your Emperor, eh? What about your allegiance to your old friend, he who restored your estates to you after they had been taken by my cousin Aurora? Does that mean nothing to you?”
Marcus could have wept, as he felt torn between his faith and his friend. Yet he gave to Urbanus the only answer possible to him.
“Believe me when I tell you how grateful I am for your favor, and how thankful for your friendship. It is something I treasure dearly. Yet the Kingdom of Heaven is not an earthly rival for power to Valerium. It is a state of heart that submits to the rule of Dominio and obeys His holy laws and surrenders the desires of the flesh to His Spirit. It is not a kingdom that you need fear, my gracious lord and old friend.”
Marcus hoped that would suffice, but even as he finished speaking he saw in the eyes of Urbanus what his response would be.
Urbanus paused a moment as though reluctant to proceed, then exhaled slowly.
“My good Marcus,” he began, “in view of our long friendship and the regard I hold you and your family in, I wish I could leave this matter alone. But I have been informed that your entire sect believes this, and that they pledge themselves to a power that they hold to be superior to the Valeriun Empire. Is this true?”
Marcus was usually poised and in control of his emotions, but the accusation caught him off guard and he found himself sputtering for the right words to appease his friend.
“Well, yes, in a way they do,” he finally managed to speak. “That is they, and I, vow to serve Dominio, the One true God, and pledge our lives in service to Him.”
“Ah ha!” Urbanus pounced on the words. “Then they do pledge allegiance to a greater power than the Valeriun Empire! That, Marcus, is treasonous, and will not be tolerated. I have allowed you to meet openly, but no more. You will cease such seditious talk or find yourselves in disfavor with the Empire. And its ruler!”
And with an imperial flick of his hand he dismissed his old friend from his presence.
Marcus walked into his villa with the staggering stride of one who is drunk or walks in his sleep. Tullia stood waiting for him in the atrium, and saw in an instant the outcome of the interview. She did not ask him questions, but put her arm threw his and raised his hand to her lips to kiss it. Then she snuggled against his shoulder in the gesture that always blessed his heart, so intimate and confiding was it.
“It is Iacomus,” he finally spoke. “Just as Felicia warned. Who is he, and why is he here?”
And Tullia looked into his eyes with the despairing gaze of one who has asked the same question, and has no answer to give.
The Alexandrians were assembled in the Maximus library. Marcus noted that Iacomus was not among them this week, confirming the dreaded suspicion that gnawed at his heart. This man had come in among them as a false believer, even as their mentor Xenon had warned them against so many years ago. Like a wolf, one who claimed to belong to Alexandros, yet was not of His spirit. And who desires power above all else…
He was just about to share with them the news of his interview with Emperor Urbanus, when the doors
to the library were suddenly thrown open. Armed Guards from the Imperial Palace stood with spears thrust outward.
“Cease and desist at once!” their Captain shouted.
He withdrew a scroll from the folds of his cloak and whipped it out. In a piercing voice that stabbed Marcus with every word he read:
“By the royal decree of His Imperial Highness Emperor Urbanus of the Empire of Valerium, the sect known as Alexandrians is forbidden to assemble in the environs of the Empire. They are to renounce their allegiance to any kingdom other than the Valeriun Empire. Any found in violation of this edict shall be arrested and tried for treason. The punishment for any found guilty shall be imprisonment and confiscation of property to the Valeriun Empire. Signed this day by His Imperial Highness, Emperor Urbanus.”
The startled Alexandrians looked in bewilderment from the soldiers to Marcus. But before he could respond the Guards dove in among them, driving them out of the library and shutting the doors. As his fellow believers were sent out into the street, Marcus stood with Tullia by his side. The Captain strode up to him and looked him sternly in the face.
“Marcus Maximus, you are to vacate the Villa Maximus and depart from the city of Potentus this day, or feel the pain of the Emperor’s wrath.”
Chapter V
Melisande
A sharp wind had blown in from the sea the night before. It had howled with the rage of ten thousand demons to the ears of Brenus. The sound kept him awake into the early hours of the morning before he at last dozed off into a fitful sleep plagued with vaguely uneasy dreams.
He woke more exhausted than he had been when he retired to bed, and reluctantly threw off his pelt of warm fur to face the morning. The late September days still retained some lingering warmth, but the chill of autumn descended with the sinking of the sun.
He recalled with a groan that he had promised his mother Judoc to hunt some rabbit for the stew she wished to make for the evening meal. It was the birthday of her husband, Dag Adalbart, and he had developed a fondness for the stew, so different from the meats of his homeland of Trekur Lende, where the men hunted boar and bear to present to the women to roast over large spits in the open air.
Brenus stuck one foot out from his pelts, and on feeling the cold, quickly drew it back in again. A few more minutes would not matter, he reasoned, and he needed to wake up more fully before starting his day. He quickly nestled down under the fur, burrowing his chin into its warmth, leaving his nose pointed out to face the chill of the room.
As he lay there he thought of Dag, the man whom he called his father. He was not of course; his own father Denzel had died many years ago while venturing into a world covered with snow to bring back venison for his son who craved it. Brenus never forgot that day: the snow blowing around their hut for days and the wind biting so hard that even a fire had been of little use to warm them. He had grown weary of the bread and cheese that sustained them during the storm and craved his mother’s venison stew. Against the pleas of Judoc Denzel had left the shelter of the hut, never to return. His body had been found a few days later, frozen to death not far from his home. Brenus had blamed himself for his father’s death, and had never forgiven himself until Dominio gave him the strength to do so.
He shook off the memory and roused himself at last. He was greeted in the small kitchen by Judoc, who bustled around cleaning up after herself and her husband. She shook her head at her son, and prepared a meal of porridge and dark bread for him. After he broke his fast, he kissed his mother swiftly and affectionately on the cheek and left the hut. Dag was nowhere to be seen, but was already hard at work in the field, according to Judoc, as she shot a slightly reproachful look at Brenus, who had slept rather late this morning.
Aye, hadn’t he been told before that he was a laze-a-bed, he rued. To be compared with the industrious Dag did not help either. Brenus had never seen anyone as hardworking as his stepfather. It was an ethic which Dag had passed on to his adopted son, Cort, who also was seldom to be found at a loss for something to do. Cort was as dear to Brenus as though they were blood brothers, and they had already been good friends before Dag and Judoc were wed. Cort was no doubt working hard with Dag, and Brenus would get a ribbing from him later when they assembled for the evening meal.
Brenus left the tiny village of Leith behind him and headed for the deep woods. How he loved this land, he exulted! Was there any place in the world as lovely as Eirinia?
The wind from last night was nowhere in evidence this morning, and the mist from the sea had rolled in, obscuring the village from view as he looked behind him. The woods were hidden from his gaze as they were also enveloped in the fog that would not lift for several hours; no, not until the sun had risen higher in the sky would it dissipate and be lost in the splendor of the day.
He walked in haste to atone for his earlier laziness and was soon deep in the woods. He slowed his pace and crept in stealth, careful not to startle the wild life that he came to stalk. Here the trees were shrouded even more heavily in the mist, as the interlocking tree branches captured it and locked it in.
A sound came to his ears: the cautious step of one trying not to be heard, yet betrayed by the snapping of twigs and the crumbling of leaves that lay underfoot. Hardly daring to breathe lest the sound of his exhale expose his hiding place, Brenus dropped to one knee and aimed carefully with his bow.
Through the trees just ahead a shape emerged and he let his arrow fly. A scream tore through his brain, and he saw that a young woman clad in a long gray cloak had fallen to the ground. With his heart feeling as though it had shot up from his chest into his throat he rushed to her side, terrified that he had wounded or killed her.
He turned her over to face him and was startled by the loveliness of the face that looked up at him. He judged her to be about eighteen years old, with eyes of a deep mossy green and hair as golden-brown as chestnuts rippled from the confines of the hood that had fallen back when she fell to the ground. She had a slim little nose that tilted upward, and a pair of full red lips that would have puckered pleasingly had they not been slack with shock. For a moment he forgot his urgency in the sheer delight of contemplating her countenance; then recalled himself to his senses.
“Are you hurt? Did I injure you?” the words spilled out of him as she struggled to rise to her feet.
Brenus put an arm around her and helped her to stand. He kept his arm around her for a moment, and she gazed up at him as if as entranced by him as he was by her. She blinked her eyes and stared at him, then seemed to realize that she was being held by a complete stranger to whom she had not even been introduced.
She stepped back from him slightly and nodded her head.
“No, I am not injured,” she whispered in a voice that was slightly husky and low in pitch with a foreign accent; then her voice rose in anger. “But the inhabitants of this land must be even wilder than I was told if you let loose arrows on innocent travelers.”
Brenus bristled slightly, but admitted she was right to be angry. He bowed to her and took her hand in his.
“I do apologize,” he said, “but I came to hunt and could not see you in the mist and mistook you for an animal. And, if I may ask, why were you walking alone and unprotected in the woods? That is not our custom with the women of Eirinia.”
Sparks of green fire shot from the girl’s eyes, but she clamped her mouth tightly as if to stifle her words. She looked at him for a long moment, clearly weighing her words before addressing him again.
At last she spoke.
“I am looking for a village called Leith,” she answered him. “I landed at a village called Annick, where I took a room let to me by an old woman, and was told it is not far, and my road ran through the woods. I am not familiar with this land, but have been warned that the inhabitants are wild and unfriendly. When you shot at me I thought perhaps rumor was correct.”
“That may be so,” Brenus replied, “but our maidens do not wander alone in this land. There are too many dangers abroa
d, the least of which are the inhabitants. You may have been taken by a wolf, or shot by another hunter. Or worse.”
He did not elaborate on this last statement, and the girl wrinkled her forehead in puzzlement.
“I am Brenus Adalbart,” he said suddenly. “Please forgive me for not introducing myself, but this is not the customary way to meet strangers and I simply forgot.”
The girl blinked her eyes, and turned a little pale. Brenus thought that his words brought back a momentary return of her terror and thought nothing of it. But her next words proved him wrong.
“What did you mean when you said “worse” could have happened,” she asked. “I have heard strange tales of this land; don’t expect me to believe that they are actually true. For that I’ll not believe!”
“Tales? What tales,” he asked her.
Yet he already knew.
“Tales of strange beings that walk by night, who are so terrifying that the inhabitants lock themselves in and refuse to venture out after nightfall. That can not be true!”
Brenus decided this was not the time to refute or confirm the wild tales that had always circulated about his native land. Instead he felt it would be a good time to get better acquainted with the pretty young woman.
“And where do you hail from, Miss…”
“I am from far away, a land you will not have heard of,” she said in haste. “And my name is Melisande. Melisande de Camille.”
Chapter VI
Brenus Takes A Bride
They would not understand, Brenus told himself. Neither his mother, nor Dag, nor even Cort would have been able to comprehend the passion that swept through him and exhilarated his waking moments. So he did not share his new love with them.
He kept it secret, as he did the fact that he met Melisande in the woods every day when he roamed them to hunt. He was older than she, being already thirty-two years old, but in Eirinia men often deferred marriage until they were established on their own land and able to support a wife. Brenus still lived in the hut where he grew up, as he had no real desire to farm his own land.
