by L. M. Roth
Cort paused for a moment, somber in his reflection of the death of the lookout. Gaelle saw his changed mood and waited considerately for him to continue.
“When we came ashore, I realized that we had landed in Gaudereaux,” he explained. “And I wished to call on you at once, although you did not expect me.”
“That is not a problem,” she hastened to assure him. “It is always good to see old friends, and more of a pleasure for being unexpected.”
Cort smiled thankfully at her, and then proceeded to impart his news.
“Yes, it is good to see old friends once again,” he agreed. “However, in our case we are more than old friends.”
He paused for a moment to gauge their reactions. Gaelle’s smile turned a little blank, and she glanced at her husband with a frown of puzzlement in her eyes. Pascal merely shrugged his shoulders and looked inquiringly at Cort.
So it is clear that they do not know, he thought. Melisande has never contacted them about the marriage; just as I suspected.
“Yes, more than old friends,” he continued. “For we are now family. You see, your granddaughter Melisande arrived in Eirinia last year and quickly married my adopted brother, Brenus.”
Pascal let out a breath of air so suddenly and deeply that it sounded to Cort like a sail that has been stilled by the wind dying and leaving it hang listlessly on the mast. But Gaelle gasped and put a hand to her mouth before stifling a cry.
“Melisande!” she burst out. “We have not seen her in just over a year. She left suddenly one day and did not leave a message for us, informing us of her destination, or even her purpose in going. We have been distraught, wondering what happened to her, and whether she is dead or alive. When did this happen, Cort?”
“She arrived in Eirinia last September. She and Brenus married quickly, but she did not tell anyone of her origins or her people. I did not know for many months, but I learned at last and discovered why she was so secretive. For it is clear that she knew my father Dag was once betrothed to her mother, and that is why she kept her secret to herself.”
He paused here, uncertain how much more to reveal of Melisande’s confession. He did not wish to hurt the grandparents who were clearly in the dark regarding her motives and destination.
But Gaelle surprised him with a revelation of her own.
“I am relieved that she is alive and unharmed,” she commented. “But I am astonished that she married the son of Dag Adalbart, for she hates him more than anyone in the world.”
She had told Melisande the story of her mother’s betrothal to Dag, and how Fanchon had regretted breaking it afterward. But although she had loved Dag and never truly forgotten him, it was not Dag but her broken promise to serve Dominio that haunted Fanchon until the day she died, taking her own life because she found her days unbearable.
She feared that she would never be forgiven, she had told Gaelle, and life was now dark without the light she had so briefly known in the days she had attempted to serve Dominio and pledged herself to spread the Kingdom of Alexandros. And yet, that life was one that she found too hard to endure, and felt that she could never return to it. But finding no joy either in the life she led at present, she simply ended it.
“But, that is not what Melisande told me!” Cort interjected. “She said that it was the loss of Dag’s love and his choice of Dominio over her that made Fanchon take her life. She told me this: I swear it!”
Gaelle smiled at him sadly and shook her head.
“Melisande may have told you that, but that does not make it true. I made it very clear to her why my daughter took her life, but she said she hated Dag and would have her revenge on him. She said this at the age of thirteen, and she never wavered in that statement, not even after her father died last winter and I thought that grief at his passing would have distracted her from the bitterness she still bore at the loss of her mother.
“She would see to it one day, she vowed, that Dag would lose his children, even as he had taken her mother from her, and she would turn their hearts away from the God that he had loved more than Fanchon, and for Whom he had abandoned her; and only then would the soul of her mother find rest.”
Chapter XI
A Desperate Decision
Maelys had risen early after a restless night spent wide awake. All night she had shifted from one position to another, but sleep was like a chimera that eluded her. When she heard the cock crow she kicked off her light woolen blanket in frustration and decided to take a brisk walk to shake off the sleepiness that engulfed her on this late August morning.
The dawn was just breaking in the eastern sky, but the sun’s rays that cast rose and violet tints in a firmament of inky black seemed too feeble to throw off the darkness that still encircled the earth. How could that small golden orb shatter the gloom of the night? Maelys realized that such a thought was a fairly accurate summing up of her feelings: she felt too small and insignificant to destroy the evil that threatened to engulf herself and her family.
The larks were just warming up their vocal chords, ready to enchant the early riser with their glorious songs. The last of the nocturnal warblers were still to be heard, but the chirping of the crickets died down gradually as one by one they yielded to the songbirds. The breeze began to sing softly through the trees and set the leaves dancing. She felt a soft ruffle on her cheek, and the coolness calmed her spirit after the turmoil of the night just spent.
Where was her father? And Cort? He had left in June, and her father just a few weeks later. Now August was nearly past and there had been no word from either of them. And the Summer Festival had proved the need for both of them to return to the village.
Maelys cast her mind back to the events of a couple of weeks ago. The villagers had gathered on the green of the square, still dotted with summer wildflowers, as was their custom for all celebrations. The young people and children had danced in a circle to the old folk songs beloved by the Eirini people, most of them about love and courtship. The older women had made a feast, each bringing their special breads, pies, and dishes of game to the large table that soon groaned under the weight of their offering.
All was as usual until Niamh approached the center of the square. Maelys instantly felt the muscles of her stomach knot up, remembering the incident at Spring Festival that had so distressed her father. Her fears were immediately justified as Niamh raised her arms skyward and intoned a chant that made the blood of Maelys rush to her head, causing it to pound and throb so violently that she thought she would faint.
“Hail Ainah, sacred Mother. Hail the womb that bore the Eirini, the great people of the mist. Praise her with love, for she is the one who gave you life. Bow at her feet and give homage to the Mother of us all. Hail Ainah.”
Nearly all of the village women, led by Niamh’s sister Enora, formed a circle and bowed low to the ground, extending their hands in tribute. The men stood behind them but did not bow; this was a rite of women honoring the Mother goddess. But the men raised no objection, and stood in silent agreement with what their women did.
To her bitter shame, Maelys saw her brother Dirk stand and look helplessly at the women. He uttered not a word of protest, merely looked at her and shrugged his shoulders. Brand stood next to him, confusion and alarm written all over his young face.
She looked for the women of her own family: Judoc bowed her head as tears ran silently down her cheeks. Melisande went to the circle of women, standing on the outer perimeter. She did not join them, but stood behind their circle. Nolwenn hesitated, and then took a place halfway between Judoc who remained in her place at the edge of the green, and her sister-in-law.
This was too much for Maelys, and she strode indignantly to her younger sister and dragged Nolwenn back to stand with Judoc. Nolwenn protested feebly, but Maelys sensed the bewilderment of the young girl, and contented herself with merely reprimanding her softly and holding her arm firmly to prevent her from re-joining Melisande.
Melisande had not missed the byplay
, and turned a look of such icy malevolence upon Maelys that for a moment her heart stopped beating. The earth seemed to rise up to meet her as she swayed on her feet. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The beat of her heart resumed, and the earth descended to its rightful place beneath her feet.
I swear if we were alone she would kill me, Maelys thought. I shall be sure to give her no such opportunity. But Dominio, help me: for I am sure that Melisande has grasped Nolwenn in the clutch that once consumed Brenus. And I will not stand by idly and tolerate it.
In the two weeks just following the Summer Festival Maelys had reflected on this incident. She knew that if her father or Cort had been present there would have been an open protest at the behavior of Niamh and the complicity of the village women. But Dirk was left as the man of the family and he had wavered, an evidence of cowardice that caused Maelys to writhe in humiliation at his unmanly weakness.
She caught him alone one evening after the family had eaten and chided him about it.
“A fine example you have set for our brother Brand, Dirk,” she scolded him with a bitterness she did not bother to conceal.
Dirk had set out on his usual evening stroll and Maelys apprehended him.
“Do you realize what Brand will think? He will assume it is alright to stand by and do nothing when evil attempts to rise among us. You should have raised your voice, you should have reprimanded Melisande and Nolwenn, you should have done something!”
Dirk flinched from the scorn and anger in his sister’s voice. He knew all too well that every word she said to him was justified. Had their father been there, the villagers would have been less defiant. Dag would have protested, and upbraided them. They may not have listened, but he would have at least taken a stand for righteousness. He knew in his heart that Cort would have done the same.
“Maelys, please,” he begged with tears rising in his eyes, “there is nothing you can say that I have not already said to myself. I know I should have protested, I know I should have done something. But I was afraid to stand alone.”
Maelys peered into her brother’s large brown eyes, so like their father’s. And she suddenly felt a pang of longing for her father. One as bold as he was what was needed in Eirinia. And now, before Niamh and Enora turned the hearts of the Eirini completely back to their idolatry and the worship of old gods that had been cast down long ago.
She knew that had her father been there he would not have wished her to scold her brother, and she felt ashamed of her angry words. She sighed, and linked her arm through his, leaning her head against his shoulder in an attitude of such weary despair that Dirk put an arm around her.
“It will be alright, Maelys,” he comforted her. “I do not know how, but somehow by the power and goodness of Dominio it will be alright.”
Now on this morning following a sleepless night Maelys made a decision to take action. She would leave Eirinia and attempt to find her father or Cort. Having resolved her dilemma at last she turned back to the hut. She knew Judoc would have risen by now; she was as early a riser as the birds, and as cheerful in their morning serenades.
Quietly she let herself in, closing the door softly behind her so as not to disturb Brand and Nolwenn who slept a little later than the rest of the family. They were still growing after all, as their mother said, and sleep was more necessary for them than the rest of the family.
Judoc was already in the kitchen preparing the simple morning meal of dark bread and fruit, with porridge available for those who wished it. She looked up from her ministrations and smiled warmly at Maelys. Her daughter returned the smile, then impulsively kissed her mother’s cheek and ruffled the copper curls that brushed against Judoc’s brow.
How pretty she still is, Maelys thought. And how Father loves her so!
She had frequently caught the glances Dag bestowed on Judoc when he thought he was unobserved: a soft glow filled his eyes, and his lips curled up in a smile so radiant that it transformed his rugged face into something almost divine.
When I marry, Maelys mused, I hope my husband still looks at me that way after twenty years of wedlock!
She quickly turned her thoughts back from her hopes for her future to the dilemma of her present.
“Good morning, Mother,” she greeted Judoc.
Judoc patted her cheek and continued to place bread on a plate.
“You were out early this morning, daughter,” she replied. “Yet you look weary. Did you not sleep well?”
“No, I did not. My heart is heavy, and that is what I wish to discuss with you.”
Judoc’s face assumed an aspect of concern, but she waited patiently for her daughter to continue.
Maelys pulled out a chair and motioned for her mother to be seated. Now Judoc knew for certain that what her daughter was about to share would not be pleasant…
“Mother, I am concerned that we have not heard from Father or Cort. They should have sent some word by now; it is not like them to be silent.”
Judoc frowned, and Maelys knew that similar thoughts had haunted her as well. The realization of her mother’s anxiety gave her the courage to continue.
“I am going to search for them,” she began.
When Judoc protested at the audacity of this notion, Maelys held up a hand for silence.
“Mother, please,” she entreated.
Judoc saw the glint of tears in her eyes and relented.
“I know it is not customary for a young woman to travel alone. Yet I must. Dirk can not come with me for he is needed for the crops. Brand is needed also, and he is too young to accompany me. I propose to disguise myself, and travel as a young man in order to protect myself.”
In spite of her concern for her daughter and worry for her husband and son, a burst of laughter escaped Judoc’s lips. Maelys frowned at her, and waited for her mother to stop, beating a rhythm with her fingers on the table top as she did so.
“I am sorry, Maelys,” Judoc said as she wiped tears from her eyes. “But there is not a chance that you can pass yourself off as a man.”
“Of course, I can!” Maelys protested. “I am very tall, I can cut my hair, and I shall take some of Cort’s old clothes to wear: we are about the same height, and I can take them from his hut. If my robes are loose enough and I wear a cloak, none will guess that I am a woman.”
Judoc smiled fondly at her daughter and shook her head.
“You are far too lovely,” she sighed. “Someone will see through your disguise at once.”
It was with reluctance that Judoc let her go. She knew that Maelys was right: something had to be done or the Eirini would be lost in return to their idolatry as they sought out the old gods. And it was unlike Dag or Cort to send no word. She hoped with a desperate yearning that no harm had come to them, but the longer the silence continued the more uneasy she became.
Where was her husband? Why had he not written to let her know he was safe? Was it because he was in danger?
Chapter XII
An Identity Revealed
Marcus stared openly at Paulina, so great was his astonishment at her incredible statement. Before he could stop himself, words that reflected his surprise burst from his lips.
“He is your relative?” his voice rose until it squeaked, and his stunned eyes met those of his wife, whose mouth was open in a round o that revealed her incredulous bewilderment.
Paulina laughed at his confusion.
“Yes, Marcus, he is. He is a sort of cousin to me. I did not know him until I was fifteen years old; that is when he came to live in Seneca. He is several years older than me, so we are not close, you see. But he is a fine man and shall make a good Emperor. I am so eager to see him on the Imperial throne, and to dine at the Palace!”
Paulina’s face glowed with happiness, but as Marcus glanced around the table, he saw she was utterly alone in her joy. Tullia’s face reflected her perplexity; it was evident that Paulina’s relation to Iacomus only increased the mystery of his identity in her eyes. Antonius was s
ubdued, and stole glances at Felicia that reflected his concern at her continued exile from her homeland. She returned his glances just as furtively, her own betraying her anxiety at the thought of a coming separation from her secret husband. Lucius looked silently at his plate, obviously bearing the full weight of his guilt at the theft of Logos.
And the face of Decimus Hadrianus was wiped clean of its usual smirk, a fact that to Marcus was perhaps the biggest surprise of the evening. Indeed, his old foe appeared to be studying the young people intently, carefully observing first the face of his son, and then examining the countenance of his daughter-in-law. To Marcus, it appeared that Decimus was struggling to come to a decision; perhaps regarding the marriage between their children, and its possible dissolution? He did not know for certain, but the eyes of Decimus were fastened on the young couple in an intense meditation.
After a few vain attempts to improve the atmosphere, Paulina decided to take shelter from the clouds on the horizon and rose from her seat. It was the unspoken signal given by the hostess that the meal was over, and the ladies were to congregate in the family sitting room while the men lingered at the table to discuss affairs of state.
On this occasion, however, Tullia pleaded a headache and asked to be excused. She would leave and send the carriage back for the others. Seeing the ashen tone of her mother’s face, Felicia expressed concern and declared that she would accompany her. She would wish to be there should her mother require anything, she explained to her hostess.
Paulina was touched at the girl’s thoughtfulness and graciously excused them both.
Lucius and Antonius were considered old enough to discuss the affairs of the day and remained at the table with their fathers. Marcus wondered wryly how openly they could discuss anything with the new Minister of State present to overhear every word that was said to report back to the Emperor. Such reservations did not deter Antonius, however, who trusted his father and said what was on his heart.
