by L. M. Roth
Cort found himself deeply moved by this recital. Who would have ever thought the light-hearted Fanchon to have suffered so greatly that she took her own life? Certainly not he. And Dag would be horrified if he were to hear of it. This then, explained the look of hostility that he had surprised on Melisande’s face so many times when she looked at her father-in-law.
But how was it that she had come to Eirinia?
“Melisande,” his voice was husky as he was surprised to find tears strangled in his throat. “I am deeply sorry for all that Fanchon suffered. But it was her choice, hers alone. It was she who asked Dag to renounce Dominio, and this he could not do. He made a vow: so did she. He kept his, and she broke hers. I know now that she suffered terribly, and so did you by her actions, but Dag had no choice other than the one he made. He pledged himself to serve Dominio and had to fulfill that pledge. It is a sacred trust.”
Melisande pursed her lips as she fought her tears. For one moment of madness Cort felt the urge to put an arm around her to comfort her. It would surely be the brotherly thing to do. But Melisande did not exactly have sisterly feelings toward him, and he resisted the impulse.
“Why did you come to Eirinia?” he asked bluntly.
A furtive look came into her eyes, and Melisande hesitated. She looked at Cort as if to determine how to answer his question.
“After my father died I felt I needed a change from Gaudereaux, where there was so much pain everywhere I turned. I heard of Eirinia. This land is renowned for its tales of magic and mystery. Although I have yet to see any proof that the tales of it are true. It seems quite tame in my eyes!”
“Oh, they were true enough in the old days! But it is Dag who put an end to all of the ‘magic and mystery.’ He it was who tamed this land!”
And Cort laughed and drew himself up in pride at his father.
“But there must be some reason why you came here, Melisande. And why have you not told the truth about your mother? Neither Brenus nor my parents have been able to get one word out of you regarding your homeland and family. That alone is reason enough for me to think ill of your intentions. Can you tell me that I am wrong in that assumption?”
Melisande tightened her lips once more and glared openly at Cort.
“You always suspect me of evil, of ill will! Why can you not believe me, Cort?”
“I shall if you could tell me that you knew nothing of my family before arriving here, and the meeting with Brenus was purely accidental. But by your own admission you knew everything about us before you ever set foot on these shores, yet hid all knowledge from us. And that alone is reason enough for me to doubt you and the sincerity of your affection for my brother.”
Melisande bore this recital with a reddened face and such rigidity in her stance that it threatened to take over her entire body. At last she spat at Cort, and whirled around and stalked away from him with her fury written in every line of her body.
Chapter XXV
Marcus and Decimus
The garden of Drusilla Octavius’ magnificent estate in Lycenium was just putting forth the first tender shoots of spring blossoms and new blades of grass. The robins had returned, and would soon be joined by their feathered kin, and the air would ring with their song. For now, the chirping of a pair of red robins was all to be heard on the sunny April morning.
Marcus Maximus strolled through the garden savoring the morning sunshine and the balmy air. All of his life he had found solace in gardens, which to his mind was strange, as so many of the unhappy instances of his life had taken place in them. He had been seized and taken captive from the garden of his father’s estate in Valerium. He had proposed to Tullia in this very garden so many years ago, only to have his suit rejected due to his reduced circumstances. And only last spring the arrival of Iacomus Cornelius in his garden in Valerium had signaled the beginning of the persecution of the Alexandrians as he walked among them and lulled them into his confidence.
How much of the tenets of their faith had already been revealed to him through Decimus via Antonius was still uncertain to Marcus. He had seen the boy on several occasions over the winter, and to his own surprise, grew quite fond of him. That I should ever live to like a child spawned by Decimus Hadrianus, he thought wryly.
And yet, the boy was every bit as gentle and naïve as Lucius said he was. He must be more like his mother, Marcus thought. It was true that Paulina was quiet to the point of invisibility and meek to the point of self-effacement when she wasn’t perpetually making social gaffes, but perhaps marriage to Decimus had made her that way. Perhaps she had once had a spark of life in her. For Antonius was full of enthusiasms and inquisitive regarding matters of the intellect.
As he had requested, Antonius did have a long discussion with Marcus regarding Alexandros. All that he had heard was from Lucius, and as he was not particularly devout, it came as little surprise to his father that his friend knew only the elementary rudiments.
“I am curious, sir,” Antonius had said, “why Alexandros had to die. Was there no other way for man to earn salvation? Could he not atone in his own manner, and win approval from Dominio?”
“No, Antonius, for the very nature of mankind was altered when Tychon and Chloe rejected Dominio’s rule in favor of ruling themselves. We became infected with the pride of Leon, who rebelled against Dominio and led a host against Him to attempt to take His throne. It was a matter of our wanting to be God ourselves, rather than simple disobedience.
“Allow me to give you an illustration that may simplify the explanation: let us say that you are told by your father not to take a particular book from his library. You are curious about the book, but you wish to obey your father so you leave it alone. However, a friend who is consistently disobedient to his own father visits you one day, and he informs you that you do not need to listen to your father, or subject yourself to his rule because you are old enough to decide what to do for yourself.
“You listen to your friend and take the book, but it is not because you are curious about why it is forbidden to you: you take the book to show your father that you do not need to submit to his authority. You see, it is in the motive rather than the act that caused the Fall of Man. Tychon and Chloe disobeyed not out of curiosity, but because they wished to rule themselves as being equal to God, and that is treason, an offense punishable by death, in this instance, eternal death. They gave their allegiance to Leon and shared in his crimes against Dominio. Leon had been cast out of Heaven, and Man was forbidden to enter it, because he rejected Dominio as God, making it impossible for him to share eternity with Dominio.
“And that is why Alexandros came; He took our punishment for the crime of treason so we may share eternity with Dominio. Does this make sense to you, Antonius?”
Antonius looked at Marcus with grave and thoughtful eyes. He appeared deep in meditation and cocked his head to the side, as though listening to something that only he could hear.
“Yes,” he said at last as he nodded his head slowly, “it does make sense. And much more sense than the gods that my mother gives obeisance to. I do not know of any answers to prayer that she has ever received from them, yet she gives sacrifices to them daily.”
He turned to look Marcus full in the eye.
“Will you pray with me? And instruct me further? For I do wish to follow Alexandros! All that I have heard of Him makes me love Him, although I do not yet understand everything there is to know of Him.”
Marcus smiled with genuine tenderness at the boy, and his heart overflowed with joy. A new convert, always a cause for rejoicing! And that it should be the son of his old enemy was surely one of the great ironies of life!
He put an arm around Antonius’ shoulder and they bowed their heads to pray, Antonius in his own words asking Alexandros to take habitation in his heart and lead him day by day. He was quickly filled with the Spirit of Dominio, and quite unexpectedly, began to weep. His tears were quiet, yet they streamed down his face like a flow from a fountain that could not b
e stopped.
Antonius apologized to Marcus and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. It was true that the men of Valeriun Empire did not like to show their emotion, but surely Antonius could be excused for weeping during the most important moment of his life. Marcus told him so, and the boy shot him a glance of gratitude.
That was the beginning. Antonius began to come to the weekly meetings of the local Alexandrians, which Marcus and Tullia also attended. Lucius came reluctantly, and Marcus had been informed soon after their arrival that his son had frequently absented himself from the meetings, and only resumed attending after the advent of his parents to Lycenium.
Marcus was sorry to hear this, and wished that his only son were more devout. Why could he not be more like Felicia? His daughter was wholly committed to Dominio and to spreading the Kingdom of Heaven; why could his son not be the same?
Marcus found himself wondering what would happen when the time came to collect Felicia from Solone. He did not anticipate an easy time of it, despite his daughter’s promise to please her mother by a season in Lycenium. He could not picture the girl in Lycenium, but Tullia would not be dissuaded. That they would clash once again like opponents in the arena he fully anticipated when the time came to bring her home.
His musings were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned around to find that Decimus was ambling toward him as though he had nothing but time on his hands. Marcus was irritated at his presence: he still heartily detested the man and it was with difficulty that he showed civility to him when forced to interact with him due to the friendship of their sons.
As if guessing his thoughts, Decimus bestowed on him an insolent sneer that revealed the loathing Marcus felt for him was mutual.
“Ho!” Decimus drawled. “Enjoying the sunshine? It is indeed a fine day to sniff flowers, although some men would prefer more masculine employment!”
The veneer of civility in Marcus suddenly snapped.
“What do you want, Decimus? Surely you must realize that the only reason you are invited to our home is because of your son’s friendship with mine, and not because you are truly welcomed by myself or my wife.”
He emphasized the words “my wife” and permitted himself the luxury of a threatening glare at Decimus. He was rewarded by a murderous glower from Decimus.
Were I not an Alexandrian I would have killed him long ago, Marcus mused in a sudden simmer of repressed rage. But killing is forbidden by Dominio, otherwise I would have dispatched this scum long since for what he did to Felix and Tullia…
“I shall take care to remember that, Maximus,” Decimus snarled in a voice hardly louder than a whisper, yet the tone inspired Marcus with a sudden fear. “Were it not for my son I would not lower myself to enter your house; you the son of a man who died a prisoner of the Empress after being abased and denounced as a traitor!”
“Take care, Decimus! The only reason I have not slit your throat before now is because it is forbidden by my faith. You deserve death for the suffering and pain you have caused. Had your father not been Governor of Lycenium you would have been punished severely, even put to death, for murdering a man in cold blood.”
Decimus flinched for just a moment, a shadow crossing his face, and just as quickly gone. He recovered his bravado so rapidly that Marcus wondered it he had imagined it.
“Not so; your friend lifted his hand to stop me and came between me and…” his voice trailed off.
Marcus knew that he would have said “Tullia” had he been speaking to anyone but her husband. Dominio or no, I must draw some boundaries, he thought.
“Know this, Decimus,” he growled in a voice as savage as that of a lion had it found the ability to speak, “if you ever lift a hand against my wife again, I will dispatch you to Hell myself and face Dominio afterward. It may damn my soul, but you shall not harm her in any way. I shall see to that!”
Decimus swayed slightly on his feet, his face changing color from an angry red to an ashen gray that resembled the residue left after a volcanic eruption. Marcus had once, on his travels with his father as a boy, seen a body that had been petrified after just such an occurrence: it looked hollow and a caricature of something that had once been vital and breathing. Decimus looked remarkably like that now.
“I am warning you,” Marcus continued. “I shall not forbid this friendship between your son and mine. In truth, I do like your son very much. He is a fine young man, and must be like his mother, rather than having any resemblance to you. But if you ever harm my family in any way, it will be the death of you.”
Chapter XXVI
Lucius and Antonius
Lucius stretched his arms lazily over his head as he roused himself from slumber. What should he do today? He did not retire until late the night before, but he told himself that the day was too fine to waste it indoors. Perhaps he should call on Antonius and interest him in going to a play at the amphitheater. It would be a perfect day for it: not too warm and not a cloud in the sky to bring rain that would hamper the production. There was a particularly fine drama playing now of a curse that plagued a patrician family due to a murder committed and hidden long ago.
He thought of the history his father had related to him a few months ago. It was hard to believe it was entirely true, yet he did sense at times that Decimus was something of a bully. Certainly Antonius had slipped and related that his mother feared doing anything that would embarrass or displease him. That accounted for her mousy personality and the air of being afraid of her own shadow, Lucius thought.
He was glad that his mother had made every effort to make Paulina feel welcome on the occasions that the family dined together. She was soon at ease with the Maximus family and visibly relaxed in their company. Such was not true on the days that Lucius visited the Hadrianus estate. Paulina was reduced to a quivering mass of timidity with a backbone that had all of the firmness of a jellyfish afloat on the surface of the sea. At such times he was proud of his own mother, and her perfect composure in the presence of Decimus who had shamed and tormented her, if his father’s account was to be believed.
He shrugged his shoulders; it was too lovely a day to think on such heavy matters, buried in the long distant past. Such did a span of twenty odd years seem to one who had only known a mere nineteen. He quickly washed his face and investigated his cupboard to select a robe that would be suitable for an outing at the amphitheater. It would not do to wear something too fine that would suffer the indignity of collecting the fine grains of dirt that were permanently embedded in the stone seats. But, what could one expect if one wanted to enjoy such amusements out of doors?
When he presented himself at the Hadrianus estate, he was informed that Antonius was slightly under the weather and under no circumstances would be going anywhere today. Lucius felt a twinge of disappointment: he had so looked forward to the first presentation of the season at the amphitheater. Of course, he could still go alone, but decided to visit his friend and cheer his solitude instead.
Antonius did indeed look pale and lethargic. It was nothing, said he, probably just due to the fine spring weather. He usually did suffer a fever of some sort at this time of year. But how good of Lucius to stop by and offer his company! It was very good of him, truly it was!
They spent some time in idle conversation, discussing nothing of any particular importance, simply enjoying the time spent in one another’s company. Lucius had not completely closed the door behind him, as leaving it slightly ajar permitted the refreshing breeze that originated from the atrium to circulate through the villa to enter the room. A waft of spring blossoms came with it and Antonius inhaled appreciatively.
“Spring! Is there any lovelier season, do you think?” he sighed and burrowed slightly down into his bedcovers. “Would that I could walk by the river and enjoy it!”
Lucius chuckled in agreement. Yes, spring had always been his favorite season as well. The time of renewal, of second chances, his mother called it. And it did seem true at times; w
hy anything was possible on a glorious April day!
After a time Antonius turned the conversation to his favorite topic, the Alexandrians and last night’s meeting which, he noted in a reproachful tone of voice, Lucius had failed to attend.
“You really should have come, Lucius,” he upbraided his friend. “It was a wonderful time and your mother was used by Dominio to heal many who were there.”
“Yes, I suppose I should have been,” Lucius agreed with a sigh. “But the night was so fair and who could bear to be confined indoors on such an evening. Certainly not I!”
Antonius shook his head and gave his friend a glance of concern mingled with rue.
“Whatever shall become of you, Lucius? You can not spend all of your life playing like the grasshopper. Remember what happened to him during the winter after he played all the summer!”
“Oh, come now, do not preach at me: I am in no mood for it! As for what will become of me, I expect that one day I shall have played long enough and I shall become my father’s good boy and carry on the family business, which at present means to become a leader of the Alexandrians. It is my fate; I can not escape it.”
“But how can you become a leader when you do not choose to prepare?” Antonius asked him. “You can not assume that you will lead the Alexandrians simply because you are the son of Marcus Maximus. We are taught to prepare for leadership as diligently as a soldier trains for warfare. And I do not see you carrying any sword into battle, Lucius.”
Lucius bestowed a sly smile upon his friend, and his lips curled upward almost in an overabundance of self-confidence.
“But, I shall have a sword, Antonius! You should see the Sword that I shall carry; for there is none like it in the world. And it shall be mine upon the death of my father. He has told me so, for it will be my legacy from him.”
Antonius puckered his forehead and gazed with concern upon his friend. Did Lucius not hear a word that was said to him? Why must he always turn everything to a joke?
