by L. M. Roth
Lucius tried to bear up, but at her words he suddenly dissolved into unmanly tears. His chin quivered as he attempted to recover himself. He took a deep breath, and after filling his lungs with air he flung himself down in the chair just opposite Tullia.
“Mother,” he began, with a tremor in his voice, “I have to confess something. Something most awful that I have done. And now the consequences may be dire indeed.”
Tullia’s eyes widened in apprehension. Lucius was not accustomed to confessing to any wrongdoing; he was usually caught after committing some misdeed, or inadvertently betraying himself, but never had he confessed before being found out. This fact warned her that what was coming must be grave indeed.
“What is it, my son?” she asked soothingly, hoping to calm him. “I am listening; go on.”
Lucius looked at the floor for what seemed an eternity. It seemed that he was granted a reprieve the longer he kept the theft to himself. But as the enormity of what had happened sank into his consciousness, he knew that every second of delay meant the loss of Logos forever. He at last raised his eyes to his mother’s.
“It is Logos, Mother,” he stated in a hard and brittle voice. “I borrowed it, to show it to Antonius. He has been so sick, you know, and I thought it would cheer him. And it did, it truly did! I intended to return Logos to Father’s hiding place, and no one would be the wiser that I borrowed it.”
He paused a moment and glanced at Tullia. She suddenly paled as if she sensed what was coming. She peered deeply into her son’s eyes as if questioning him, and found the answer she dreaded to hear.
“And Logos is missing? Is that what you wish to confess, Lucius?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
Lucius could not speak: he nodded his head almost imperceptibly as though he could not bear to put the fact into words.
Tullia moaned and hung her head; she put her hands in front of her with palms placed together in an attitude of prayer. Then she raised her eyes and looked at her son with eyes full of pain.
“Your father’s legacy,” she intoned. “All he has left. And it’s gone.”
Lucius wanted to sink beneath the floor and never have to face her again. Didn’t he feel badly enough already without her censure?
“How can this be, Lucius? When did you leave the Sword alone?” Tullia queried him in a tone grown strident with rising anxiety.
Suddenly she rose from her seat and pulled him from his own.
“We can not just sit here: we must find out where it is. When did you last see it?’
“When I showed it to Antonius,” he answered.
He thought it best not to tell his mother that he had permitted Antonius to sleep with the Sword. That would have only fueled the fire of the anger he felt building within her.
“And then?” she barked in a voice totally unlike her usual modulated tones.
“I did not look for it until this morning after I strolled in the garden. I went to my room to return it to Father’s hiding place: that is when I discovered it was missing.”
Tullia looked at him searchingly, and seemed deep in thought. Her eyes widened suddenly and she gasped.
“Can it be? The Fabius’? For they were in a hurry to take leave of us, not even pausing to break their fast this morning. What business could have been as urgent as that?”
“I had that same thought, Mother. It seems they had the opportunity, but what is the motive? Why did they suddenly call on us last night and rush off this morning? Is that not peculiar behavior?”
“Well, they did not intend to spend the night, Lucius. They only stayed because the storm was so violent that we thought it best to offer them shelter. And it does seem they would have had no motive; only the opportunity. In truth, I know nothing about them. Your grandmother invited them to dine; perhaps we should ask her what she knows of them.”
Tullia turned abruptly to the door, and Lucius hurried in her wake. She took the steps to the upper floor two at a time, alerting Lucius to the urgency of the situation in her eyes. Always had he seen his mother walk with the dignity and grace of a swan, never hurrying, and always mindful of being a lady. Now no such thought entered her mind, he could tell. She had one thought only, and that was to find the Sword that was her husband’s legacy.
“Mother,” she exclaimed as she threw open the door of Drusilla’s room without her customary knock of courtesy.
Drusilla had retired there after breaking her fast and was reading a letter from an old friend. She started violently at the sound of the door banging against the wall, and jumped to her feet at the sight of her daughter’s face.
“What ails you, daughter? You look like a general about to march into battle. Have I not taught you to move and speak with the dignity of a lady?”
Tullia shook her head impatiently and pulled up a chair by her mother’s side.
“There is no time for lecturing me, Mother. I need you to tell me what you know about the Fabius’ who were our guests. Where did you meet them? Why did you invite them last night? What is their history?”
“Gracious, Tullia! Calm yourself; there is no need to ask three questions at once!” a flustered Drusilla answered her.
She took one look at her daughter’s countenance and for the first time became aware that something was dreadfully wrong.
“I met them a few weeks ago at a banquet given by an old friend of mine. They seemed very cordial and considering how prominent they are, good people to become acquainted with. As to their history, they have not been in Lycenium for some years and only lately returned after living in Golida. Maurus has business there, but met Ursula in Lycenium many years ago when he came on holiday.
“She grew up here, you know, Tullia. I recall her when she was a young woman. Do you not remember her?”
Tullia wrinkled her forehead in thought: nothing came to mind of a young Ursula.
“No, I am sorry, Mother. I do not remember her,” she replied, shaking her head abstractedly.
Suddenly, her head darted up and she drew a sharp breath.
“No wait! I do remember her now. She and I were in different circles socially because she was the daughter of a textile merchant, and as such we did not mingle with the same people. But I suddenly remembered something that a friend of mine told me: she said that when word got around that Decimus was courting me, a lot of young maidens were disappointed because they all wanted to wed the Governor’s son.”
Tullia paused and looked full into Drusilla’s face, staring at her as though she would bore holes in her very being.
“But it was also said that there was one maiden who was absolutely furious about our coming betrothal because she thought Decimus was courting her. He had been meeting her in secret with no honorable intentions, as it turned out. And that maiden was Ursula Celsus, who swore that one day she would repay those who had insulted her.”
Chapter II
A Terrible Revelation
Drusilla gasped at her daughter’s statement.
“I had not heard that!” she exclaimed in accents of horror. “I recall Ursula: it was her father that I patronized for fabric and I saw her a few times. She was a very attractive young maiden, well-mannered too, and I thought it a pity that she was relegated to the status of a merchant’s daughter. And then she met Maurus who did not care a whit about her social inferiority. But that took place after you married and moved to Potentus, so I suppose you may never have heard about it.”
“And it would seem that she at last has had an opportunity for her revenge!” Tullia burst out as her face grew red with fury.
Lucius had never seen her so irate, and was glad that her anger had shifted from him to another. Then a thought struck him, and the horror of it took his breath away.
“What is it, Lucius?” Tullia asked, as she heard him gasp.
Lucius stared at her with open mouth and eyes opened wider still. He shook his head, so horrified that words failed him. Yet he knew that time was slipping away…
“It is just this, Mother: how did Ursula know about Logos? She is a stranger to us. Even those outside of the Alexandrian circle have never heard mention of the Sword. So, how could she possibly know?” his voice trailed off and he stared into space, his stomach threatening to heave violently under the strain of his shock.
Tullia seemed struck with the same realization.
“No, it can not be,” she breathed. “I will not believe that of Antonius! He seems such a gentle boy. Ursula could only know if she had been told, and the only one who could have told her would be Antonius!”
“Or his father,” Lucius hastened to assure her. “It is possible that Antonius said something to his father, and Decimus told Ursula.”
Tullia gazed at her son as though looking through him. She pondered for a moment.
“And if Decimus told Ursula, it must be with some vile purpose in mind,” she nodded her head abstractedly.
She suddenly rose to her feet so quickly that Lucius involuntarily stood as well.
“We must go to the Hadrianus villa at once and insist that Decimus return the Sword,” she said with a decisive air that settled the matter.
“Yes, we must go at once,” Lucius agreed.
At the House of Hadrianus, they were informed that the master had left the evening before on an urgent matter. Tullia did not believe this, and insisted on seeing Paulina at once.
Paulina entered the atrium with her soft, ingratiating smile and bade them be seated. Tullia bit her lip as the urgency of the situation did not permit the polite exchange of greetings that would be customary. She forced herself to smile and be seated as she fished around for information about Decimus.
“Good day, Paulina,” she began. “I wish to thank you for your hospitality to Lucius. He enjoyed his stay very much. And how is dear Antonius? Is he improved?”
“Oh, yes, he is very much improved,” Paulina answered. “He was able to break his fast with me this morning instead of staying in his room. He is resting now, but getting stronger by the moment, I’m certain.”
“He broke his fast with you?” Tullia asked with a deceptively casual air. “Is his father not at home?”
“No, he had to leave late yesterday afternoon quite suddenly. He has an uncle who was taken ill and he wished to see him as the doctors say his condition is very grave.”
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that,” Tullia soothed. “And did he take a long journey? Where does his uncle live?”
“I have never met his uncle so I am not certain of the exact location, but he lives in Lucerna, somewhere in the Mountains at the eastern edge of the Empire.”
As they left the villa, Tullia and Lucius conferred.
“It can not be Decimus,” Lucius remarked. “For there would not have been time for Ursula to take Logos and give it to him if he left yesterday afternoon for Lucerna.”
“So it would seem,” Tullia agreed. “Yet why would Ursula wish to take Logos? She can have no possible reason for wanting the Sword.”
Lucius pondered for a moment, and then an idea seemed to give the answer to the puzzle.
“I have it! Ursula was angry because Decimus wished to marry you, and she swore to get her revenge. Is it possible that she heard you are back in Lycenium because of the persecution in Valerium? Is it possible that someone told her of Logos, and how it is the only possession of any value left to your husband, the man you jilted Decimus for?”
Tullia looked unseeingly ahead of her with the blank stare of one who walks in their sleep. Lucius waited for what seemed an eternity for her to speak.
“I do not know,” she whispered, as she shook her head.
Despair seemed written in every line of her face.
“But I do know we can not sit here doing nothing. Decimus left before the Sword was missing; therefore it can not be him behind the theft. Ursula is the only other person who might have a motive for taking it. So, we must hasten to follow her and Maurus to Golida. It is possible that we shall find the answer there.”
She nodded her head firmly, her mind made up at last.
“But we must hurry, my son. There is not a moment to lose if we wish to find your father’s Sword.”
Chapter III
A Mystery Most Baffling
Judoc and Melisande watched and waited all night for Brenus. They urged Dag and the children to go to bed and get rest. The hours dragged by and the night sped on. But Brenus did not return.
When the dawn arrived, Melisande dragged her weary body out of the chair where she had spent the night and bid Judoc goodbye. Perhaps, she said, Brenus had gone to their hut instead of coming to a late dinner at his mother’s. That seemed the most likely explanation, although unlike him not to come for her and take her home.
But when she entered their hut, there was no trace of Brenus to be seen. The fear she had tried to stifle all night now took flight and alarm spread through every fiber of her being. Brenus must be hurt, lying in the woods somewhere waiting for someone to find him.
Forgetting her animosity for her father-in-law, she now rushed to his hut and banged on the door. It was opened by a heavy-eyed Dag who took one look at her ashen face and pulled her inside.
“He isn’t there! Oh, he must be lying in the woods, wounded or sick! Please, we need to send a party to look for him at once!” she exclaimed.
Dag immediately roused Dirk and Brand. Judoc hastened to Cort’s hut and informed him that Brenus was missing. Without even waiting to break his fast, Cort flew out of the hut and headed for the woods.
They trudged through the long grass, not caring if any woodland animals heard them. For it was not them that they had come to hunt. Cort headed the search party, which had now been joined by several of the village men, who told Dag that they could find Brenus faster if they spread out.
The tension that had been between Dag and the men since Spring Festival was broken in their mutual anxiety for Brenus, and he gratefully accepted their help. He and Brand searched in one section, as Dirk paired off with Cort. Laig and another villager went off in a third. Altogether there were five search teams fanning the woods to find Brenus.
Dag was dismayed by the forlorn and frightened expression on the face of his youngest son. He put a comforting arm around Brand, and kissed the top of his head.
My boys, he thought. What a blessing they are to me. I could not bear to lose even one of them. Please, Dominio, let all be well with Brenus.
Cort had thoughts of his own plague him as he hunted frantically for the brother with whom he had grown up, fought with, played with, and loved as his best friend. He and Dirk did not exchange idle words but saved all of their strength for the search. Rain had fallen in the night and the sodden ground sucked their feet and released them only with a struggle.
Cort did not hope that the search would end well. Brenus was an experienced woodsman, and for him not to return from a day’s hunt could only bode ill. He steeled himself to find his brother’s body, and prepared for the worst.
It was Laig who found him. He had penetrated deeper into the woods, and finding no trace, decided to go off the path that was forbidden to leave. Laig knew the injunction that had been laid on the Eirini long ago, and the peril one risked for leaving the path. But having known Brenus since he was a baby, he decided it would be just like him to leave the path.
He saw a mound looming ahead of him, and recalled it had been a place of rituals in the old days before the coming of Dag and Marcus Maximus. He had a sudden, momentary revulsion assail him from nowhere, and a queer anxiety beset him. His heart started racing, and the beating of his own heart was so loud to his own ears that he was certain it could be heard by his companion.
Tis nothing, he tried to assure himself. There can be nothing to fear in a mound of earth!
Yet, his heart continued its strange beating, and he felt his palms suddenly grow wet with sweat. There was something of evil that lingered in this place, he decided. But we drove the Tuadan out, so why this sense of a dark presence here? It was
then that he became aware of the deafening silence. It was May, yet the birds had stopped their singing, and there were hawks circling ominously overhead…
Just beyond the mound, his eye was caught by what appeared to be a heap of rags.
No, he moaned to himself, it can not be.
He paused for a moment, and then raised the shout to the others.
They came running hastily from all directions. As they scrambled to meet Laig, they all stopped and stared at the bundle beyond the mound, and waited for Dag to arrive.
He came with Brand, followed by Cort and Dirk. One look at the faces of the others told him everything he needed to know. He stood still as if rooted to the ground. Cort and his other sons looked at his stricken face and came to stand beside him. Then Dag moved slowly in the direction of the bundle.
He saw a body lying face down on the ground, lying so still that it could not possibly be living. He dropped to his knees beside it, still hoping that it would not be Brenus, but some unfortunate hunter who had met with an accident. He hesitated, reluctant to face the truth, before forcing himself to turn it over.
What was revealed made all of them cry out in horror.
It was Brenus. But the face was frozen in an expression of such terror that it was frightening to see: the eyes popped open, the mouth hanging open as if seeing something too unbearable to behold.
They examined him for wounds or marks of injury.
But their cursory examination revealed nothing…
It was Laig who finally put it into words after they had stood in stunned silence for several moments.
“There are no wounds. No sign of injury,” he stated.
Then he voiced the words that all of them were loathe to utter.
“It would appear that something frightened Brenus to death.”
Chapter IV
The Widow
They carried the body of Brenus to his hut, where his wife waited anxiously for their return. Melisande heard their approach and she scrambled to open the door before they could knock on it. She saw the stoic faces of Dag and her brothers-in-law, and they told her all that she needed to know. She sank to her knees and placed her face in her hands.
