by L. M. Roth
It was true that the more temperate climate agreed with Brit far better than the frigid winters of her native land. She and Judoc were soon inseparable companions, as Judoc hastened to acquaint her with incidents from Cort’s childhood and adolescence that she had missed. Brit feasted on these anecdotes with the hunger of one who has fasted long and is now permitted to sate their craving. How she loved Cort! And how she had missed him in the years after he ran away from home.
Brenus found himself deeply moved by Cort’s mother and her joy in her reunion with her son. He frequently caught her gazing at her son with tears shimmering in her eyes. At Cort’s wedding, Brenus spotted her weeping at the feast. He walked over to her and put an arm around her. She smiled through her tears and shrugged her shoulders.
“I am so happy,” she whispered. “So happy.”
Brenus happened to glance from her glowing face to behold his own wife’s glowering one. Why did Melisande shed such a malevolent stare upon Siv? Surely she should be pleased that Cort was married and would not be troubling her any longer!
He said nothing at the wedding, but later as they were preparing to retire to bed he decided to satisfy his curiosity. Something did not feel right in his spirit and he wanted to reassure himself that all was well. Although he would not admit that, not even in his own heart…
“Ah, was that not a lovely wedding, Melisande? And to think: Siv waited for Cort all those years! A true romance, that is. And those are rare indeed!”
Melisande had been brushing her hair prior to retiring, and to her husband’s astonishment she suddenly flung the brush across the room. She then glanced at her husband, and seeing the look of astonishment on his face, she managed a difficult smile.
“Lovely, yes! But as for Siv waiting all those years, I doubt there were many men who paid court to her anyway. She is not exactly a beauty, you know.”
“Melisande! That is very unkind of you! And I think that Siv is very pretty, like a young doe with her wide eyes and triangular face. True, she is not beautiful in the accepted sense of the word, but she is pleasing to look at indeed!”
“Hmpf!” Melisande huffed as she stomped across the room to retrieve her brush.
She visibly calmed herself at the sight of her husband’s narrowed eyes that watched her too closely for her comfort. She smoothed the scowl from her brow and lifted her lips in a smile.
“If you say so, Brenus. Perhaps men have different standards of beauty than women have. And probably a good thing, otherwise few women would be made wives!”
Brenus continued to watch her intently as a little fear clutched at his heart. It could not be…
“But are you not happy for Cort? For he waited a long time to take a wife, and now he has married a good woman who shall make him as happy as you have made me.”
He never took his eyes off of her face as he waited for her response. She seemed to falter at his words, and sat down abruptly on the stool where she had been sitting to brush her hair. She turned to smile at him, recovered from her momentary lapse of serenity.
“Oh, certainly I am happy for Cort. It is wonderful for him to be reunited with his mother, is it not? And to see what friends she and Judoc have become is quite touching. Why, the natives of Trekur Lende may flock to your village in droves to add a splash of color to the local habitation! And that shall keep life most interesting, indeed!”
Brenus contented himself with that, choosing to overlook the fact that Melisande did not agree with his words regarding Cort’s happiness. Once again he asked himself the same question that haunted him ever since the night Cort had fled: did he lie about the scene he caught him in with Melisande? Or was his wife the perpetrator, pursuing his own brother to indulge in a forbidden love?
He could not bear that she be lying to him, so once again he forced himself to believe that she told him the truth.
But such incidents were rare, and throughout the winter before Cort’s return, Brenus and Melisande had been as ecstatic as only lovers can be. Due to the temperate climate, they did not see much snow, and on the rare occasions when any fell Melisande was as playful as a little girl, making snowballs to pelt at her husband, and laughing when he put a handful down her back. Then they linked arms and walked through the wintry wood oblivious to the cold, having eyes only for each other, Melisande occasionally laying her head on his shoulder in perfect contentment. For Brenus, it seemed that every desire of his heart was satisfied, and he and his wife were the epitome of two souls combined as one, lovers who were made for each other.
At such times he felt that he had found heaven on earth, and cared not that Melisande did not appear any closer to Dominio than she had the day they wed. Indeed, she seemed even more disdainful of the faith the entire village shared than she had on their wedding day. He cared not; for she had cast a spell on him as effective as any enchantress that lured a wayfarer to a willing destruction. So great was his passion for his wife that he would risk displeasing Dominio Himself, though he knew that to be blasphemy.
As it was, she was all he needed. That she was not always so content was an unpleasant reality which he chose to ignore. There were times when he caught her sighing as if her heart would break, for what reason he knew not. If he inquired she might shrug and smile and say it did not matter. Or she might snap at him and tell him it was none of his concern, did she not have a right to sigh if she felt like it?
She had never made good friends with Judoc, and on occasion wrangled with Maelys, who found her to be competition for attention. It was clear that she was not going to befriend her new sister-in-law Siv, and indeed, had an active antipathy for her. The fact that Maelys quickly befriended Siv was another source of irritation to Melisande, who felt that Maelys drew a distinction between the two young women, calling Cort’s wife “sister” while being barely civil to Brenus’ wife. There were a couple of women in Leith that she called on to visit, some of the younger married ones. But increasingly she had started going to the neighboring village of Annick and whiled away her day there.
Brenus did not see anything to object to in this matter, although he failed to see what the attraction was. Annick was still the same fishing village where his mother used to sell her fish before she met and married Dag: there was nothing particularly attractive about it.
He was simply glad that Melisande was settling into Eirinia, and had found some new friends.
Chapter XXXI
Rumblings of Discontent
It began slowly, so slowly that Dag did not even perceive it at first. Was it at the council meeting that he first noticed an alarming change in attitude? And how long had it been hidden from him?
More than twenty years ago he had come here on his quest with Marcus Maximus, and in one day the entire village had pledged themselves to serve Alexandros. He had remained to marry Judoc and to teach them the ways of Dominio; he was soon accepted as one of them. He had raised their children as Alexandrians but adapted himself to the local customs, even permitting Judoc to name their daughters with Eirini names. He had preserved his own heritage by giving their sons the names of Trekur Lende.
It was not until the return of Cort that he sensed something amiss. It was not Cort himself that triggered the response, for he had always been one of the favorite young men of the village; a boon companion of the young men, sighed over by the young women, sought out for play by the children, and respected by his elders. His wife and mother quickly made friends in the village and were soon accepted as part of the local population. No, the return of Cort was not the cause…
It was Melisande who made him uneasy. There was something about Brenus’ wife that gave him the same sense of disquiet as in the days when he hunted in Trekur Lende and knew instinctively when he was being stalked by an unknown predator: the hunter in an instant becoming the prey. It was that sense of alarm that she invariably set off in him.
It had been unsettling enough when Brenus had married a young woman who had appeared in their midst and refused to give
an account of her family or homeland. Such was not done among decent people, Judoc had informed him. He would not have known better, as in Trekur Lende strangers were welcome to enter any home to escape the harsh climate. No questions were asked of them, and they simply took their respite and moved on. But such was not the way among civilized people, according to his wife.
But to see the way that Melisande had unmanned Brenus made Dag clamp his mouth shut on angry words many times when in their presence. What ailed the lad? He had always been of a fiery temperament and refused to have anyone take an advantage of him or treat him rudely. Dag would never forget his meeting with Cort and how quickly war was declared on him after accidentally pushing him. It had been Kyrene who prevented open battle from erupting and hostilities breaking out.
And in all the days of his childhood and adolescence it had been the same: Brenus’ temper became legendary in Leith. Yet since his marriage, Dag had noted how often Melisande over-ruled him, and even cowed him. All it took was a flash from her eyes if Brenus denied her anything, or contradicted a statement she made that turned out to be inaccurate. Such as the time when she had, in an effort to conciliate her mother-in-law, misinterpreted the meaning of her name.
“Ah, Judoc: it suits you, for it means ‘to judge’ and there are few wiser than you, I’ll warrant!” Melisande raptured as she flashed an ingratiating smile at Judoc.
Judoc overlooked the mistake and kept silent, but Brenus could never prevent himself from rushing into a melee.
“It does not,” he laughed, with an indulgent glance at his wife. “It means ‘joyful’ and I believe that it is a perfect name for Mother. She has always been like a hummingbird, singing happily as she bustles about the house going from one task to the next.”
Melisande tightened her lips as she glared at Brenus with a grimace that made Dag shudder and the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. How like a demon she suddenly looked…
“Well, I was always told that it means ‘to judge’ and I can not believe that I have been misinformed all of my life! Perhaps you may want to reconsider your words, husband, for I am sure you are wrong.”
She uttered these words through tightly clenched lips in a voice that was low and as threatening as a thunderstorm about to break. Brenus actually paled and hastened to take back his words.
“Of course, of course, my love! I must not have heard correctly. I do apologize for my mistake.”
Melisande permitted him to put an arm about her, but her smile of soothed vanity did not reach her eyes, and Dag suddenly remembered another like it that he had seen in the days of his youth. But that was utterly impossible: he dismissed it as a figment of his imagination.
But could she be an agent of the Astra, sent to Eirinia to undermine his work among the Eirini? He knew such a thing was possible, and she did not show any fervor or even devotion to Dominio that he had ever been able to detect. That she had duped Brenus in that regard was clear to him, and to Judoc, who had not hesitated to speak her mind to her husband on that matter.
“Bewitched him, she has: he’ll believe anything she tells him. She does not worship Dominio anymore than a dog does. She came here with no good intended, and what will come of this marriage I tremble to think. For my boy’s sake I hope it will be happy; but it would seem that the price of his happiness is to do as he’s told.”
And Judoc sadly shook her head as she contemplated the future of her eldest son. Dag commiserated with her, for he had always been fond of the lad. Although he could never mean to him what Cort did, coming as he did from his native land, and having shared in so many adventures together. Not even his own sons born of his flesh could take Cort’s place in his heart, stolen by him out of pity for a runaway who had never known the love of his own father.
He had been heartsick when Cort left so abruptly after the rift with Brenus. Any cause of conflict between them would have been hard enough, but Melisande simply was not worth it in Dag’s eyes. That she lied about Cort and his advances to her was obvious as far as he and Judoc were concerned.
More than likely it was she who threw herself at Cort, Dag fumed to himself. He had always been chased by the village girls, being tall, lean, and blond, with blue eyes sparkling with mischief and fun. No doubt Melisande nurtured a secret desire for her brother-in-law and he had rejected her and she took her revenge by falsely accusing him. That it may also have been precipitated by the unexpected arrival of her husband on the scene was not a factor that escaped Dag’s notice either.
He had spent the winter longing for Cort and worrying for his safety. Where would he have gone, he wondered? Did he set out for parts unknown, or perhaps visit his old friends Marcus and Kyrene? He received no message from him advising him of his safety or informing him of his whereabouts, and it had been a long winter for Dag indeed.
When Cort returned to Leith with his betrothed and his mother, it was a day for rejoicing. Even Brenus had been delighted, although he would not confess to anyone that it was possible Melisande had lied about his brother. Dag had not been present when the two met for the first time since Cort’s return, but it was evident when he saw them together that they would at least be civil to one another, although without the complete harmony of spirit they had always shared.
Dag had been delighted by the arrival of Brit and her reunion with her son. He had been a little apprehensive about Judoc’s reaction, and whether she would find Brit a threat to her relationship with Cort. But the two women became friends even before Brit had been in Leith for a full day, and Dag was relieved to see it.
He already had friction in the family from one son’s marriage: he did not need to see any further discord as the result of another.
It was Laig’s remark that gave him the first quiver of alarm.
They had met to plan the spring festival. It was traditionally a time of rejoicing at the return of the longer days and fine weather. The village children especially enjoyed it, and played games far into the hour of twilight following the sunset, and had to be dragged away by their weary parents off to their beds.
“I was wondering what we shall do to celebrate the Return. Niamh has been questioning me if we shall revive it as we did in the old days.”
Laig said this with a casual air, yet the look he shed on Dag was searching and made him distinctly uncomfortable. Dag had never felt as at ease with Laig as he had with Cadeyrn. But Cadeyrn had died of a fever some five years before. There were times when Dag missed him dearly, and felt the loss of his sensible counsel.
“The Return?” he queried. “What is that? We have not spoken of this before.”
Dag was genuinely puzzled, and looked around the room at the others for enlightenment. He was met with lowered eyes as every man there suddenly appeared fascinated with the dirt floor of the council building. It seemed to Dag that he could hear the breathing of everyone present in the tense stillness that followed his question. He waited, and saw a few men dart glances out of the corner of their eyes at their neighbors.
Finally, Laig answered the question.
“The Return has always been held sacred by our people. It is a cause for rejoicing, as we thank Eoghan for the end of winter and the return of spring.”
“Eoghan!” Dag exclaimed in horror. “But this village serves Dominio: it has served Dominio for more than twenty years. We pledged ourselves to Alexandros, and the high places of the Tuadan were thrown down and are no more. Worship of other deities ceased as well.”
He trembled as a sudden dread clutched his heart: why did they want to thank their false deities for anything? That idolatry had been smashed long ago…
“Why can we not serve both?” Laig asked him. “In other places of the world they serve many gods and think nothing of it. Why not in Leith? We serve Dominio, yet we thank Eoghan for blessings too.”
His eyes met Dag’s and they locked in a duel of stares.
Never, Dag thought, did he think he would live to see such a moment. Their commitment to Dominio had be
en total. What had happened to turn their hearts away to their former gods?
“No thanks will be given to Eoghan,” Dag stated through clenched teeth.
The room was silent. No one lifted their eyes from the floor. Only Laig stared boldly at Dag and held his ground.
“I do not see the harm,” he murmured. “We would still serve Dominio. We would just give thanks to Eoghan. No harm in that is there?”
Chapter XXXII
Spring Festival
The time had come. The village people were all gathered at the Common and preparing to celebrate. The children scampered about in their excitement, eager to play their games outdoors once more now that winter was gone and the rains of spring had stopped their downpours. Their shrill laughter punctuated their frolic as they ran races and skipped about in glee. Here and there the village lads teased some of the young maidens, creeping up behind and pulling on braids, or jumping out in front of them to savor their startled screams.
Dag walked about with a slight frown furrowing his brow as he observed the preparations. He had shared with Judoc the comments of Laig at the council meeting, and she agreed that there was valid cause for concern. What she told him deepened his alarm…
In the old days, she told him, the days before Dag and Marcus Maximus had introduced the Eirini to Alexandros, Laig’s wife Niamh had been one of the most ardent followers of the Tuadan. It was she who instructed the young women of the village in the secret rituals that were revealed only to the chosen circle. Even Judoc did not know what those rituals were, as she had never been initiated into the chosen circle.
