Chronicles of Logos Quest For the Kingdom Parts IV, V, VI, and VII Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set)

by L. M. Roth

  “Well,” the guard scoffed, “you are about to visit the Emperor. It isn’t every prisoner that has such a privilege; most of them are left here to rot! You must be more important than you appear to be.”

  He snickered and waited for Dag to respond. But Dag only smiled at him, a gesture which seemed to take the guard by surprise. For a moment he wavered and stared at Dag uncertainly; then he recovered himself and turned his back abruptly on the prisoner.

  “Follow me!” he ordered sharply, and roughly jerking the chain that was manacled to Dag’s wrist, he led him up a series of stone staircases to the Emperor’s throne room far above.

  Dag stood erectly before Iacomus, but did not look at him. He kept his gaze fastened on the opposite wall, and waited for the Emperor to speak. He did not know whether to expect death or torture, and steeled himself for whatever sentence would be handed down to him.

  Iacomus considered the man before him. He had not forgotten the way the prisoner had defied him at their last meeting, and took a perverse pleasure in keeping him in suspense. He would show him what happened to those who dared to raise their voice against him!

  But a curious thing happened to Iacomus, something he did not expect: the longer he kept Dag waiting in silence, the more in control of the interview the prisoner appeared to be. He marveled at how calm the man was, how fearless. Why, he did not seem to be concerned about his fate at all!

  A true Alexandrian, he thought to himself. Entrusting his fate to a God that he could not see and Who evidently did not care that he was a prisoner with his life at the mercy of the whim of a ruler.

  Iacomus remembered the meetings where he had infiltrated their ranks in order to learn their secrets that he might win the favor of the Emperor Urbanus. He had needed a way to bring himself to the attention of the Emperor, and the Alexandrians had given him the opportunity he needed. Pledging allegiance to another Kingdom other than the Empire, indeed! What a passel of fools they all were, believing in something they could not see, hear, or touch, while throwing away all earthly advantages as worldly and ambitious.

  Well, he had their Sword now, their precious Logos. He had seen with his own eyes at those meetings the words that miraculously appeared on its blade whenever a question was asked of it. He could not deny the marvel, although he was at a loss to explain its occurrence. Truly it was a power unlike any he had ever seen. It dawned on him that whoever possessed the Sword could call on that power and not only use it for their aid, but could use it to wield control over all others…

  And to ensure that the Alexandrians were deprived of its aid he had persuaded that idiot Decimus that his cousin Paulina was stupid enough to marry to steal it at the first opportunity after Urbanus had exiled Marcus Maximus, an occurrence which had taken the Sword out of Iacomus’ reach. The theft was easier than Iacomus had anticipated due to the unexpected friendship that sprang up between the son of Decimus and the son of Maximus. The relationship had given Decimus access to the family and their villa. Then all he had to do was to wait for the chance to take Logos and bring it to the new Emperor.

  Iacomus chuckled inwardly at how brilliantly he had manipulated his way to power and deprived this rebellious sect of the source of theirs. He thought again of the gleam of the Sword, of the shimmer of its blade. How much power did they have without that?

  He was torn from his musing by the reminder of the prisoner who stood before him, continuing to stare at the opposite wall. Something about the man intimidated him suddenly, and he remembered the words the man had flung at him at their first meeting, telling him to repent of his blasphemy. Iacomus was not a man given to introspection, nor did he believe in a power higher than his own. He had secretly scoffed at the Alexandrians when he attended their weekly meetings, only joining them with the intention of learning all he could about them in order to betray them for his own purposes.

  But as he studied the man who stood before him an unreasonable fear came over him, and he found himself wondering what kind of man it was who could defy his sovereign and not be afraid. And for the first time a glimmer of doubt entered the mind of Iacomus Cornelius…

  To the prisoner he merely gave a flick of his hand and he gestured to the guard.

  “Take him back to his dungeon,” he ordered. “I have had enough of his glum countenance for today.”

  Chapter XXIII

  A Child Is Born

  Judoc at last sank into a chair in weary gratitude. The ordeal was over: Melisande had given birth to a child after a long and grueling labor that left her so weak that her mother-in-law had feared for her life. In her exhaustion and pain the young woman had clung to the older one, clutching at her hands and beseeching her with her eyes to ease her suffering.

  At one point Melisande had surprised Judoc by crying out for her own mother, a cry that tore at the maternal heart of her mother-in-law, who knew the cry could never be answered. Then Melisande appeared to realize what she had done, and turned her face away, shedding silent tears into the cushion that Nolwenn had placed behind her head. Judoc felt a pang of compassion, and stroked the younger woman’s forehead, pushing back the strands of hair matted with sweat that had fallen forward onto her brow. With the back of her hand she dried the tears that still coursed down Melisande’s cheeks, a gesture that seemed only to make the girl cry all the harder, but whether because she missed her mother or sensed Judoc’s wish to comfort her mother-in-law could not say.

  The birth had surprised them all, coming a month before its time. It was the stress of all that she had suffered, Judoc surmised. Not only the loss of Brenus, but all of the friction between Melisande and Cort had placed strain on a woman carrying a child, perhaps even inducing labor before its time.

  Judoc realized with a twinge of pain that today was the anniversary of Melisande’s marriage to Brenus. Was that what had brought on the birth, perhaps, the memory of that event, and missing her husband who would not see his child brought into the world?

  She knew that if Cort or Maelys had been there they would have scoffed at the notion that Melisande loved Brenus. Yet, Judoc remembered the alarm in Melisande’s eyes when Brenus had not returned from hunting, and the agony of grief she exhibited when they had brought his body home. She simply could not bring herself to believe that either the fear or the grief was merely an act to fool those around her.

  She sensed that her daughter-in-law’s feelings for her husband had been more complicated than her own children gave her credit for. They were young yet, and saw everything as black or white; but Judoc knew that all too often affairs of the heart were tinged with gray, where motives and feelings were mixed and neither completely pure nor wholly evil. That Melisande had married Brenus coldly with no feeling for him at all she could not believe, and she had seemed perfectly happy with him when she and Dag met her for the first time. It was not until after Melisande had met Cort that Judoc noticed a change, but what had happened that brought that change she did not wish to speculate about…

  The cry of the baby brought her to her feet, and sent her rushing to the child’s side. A little girl, tiny and mewing like a newborn kitten; Judoc smiled unconsciously at the sight of her first grandchild. Already she loved this reminder of her son, and noted that she had a look of her father with her black hair and sturdy little fists now curled up in frustration at a dissatisfaction she was powerless to express.

  The cries reached Melisande and she feebly attempted to sit up to tend to the child, but Judoc pushed her back gently on the bed and urged her to rest.

  “Hush, be still,” she soothed her as tenderly as if she was a child herself. “I will look after the babe until you are strong enough to care for her. Nolwenn shall tend to her brothers, but I will stay here with you.”

  Such unexpected kindness reduced Melisande to tears, and once more they started rolling down her cheeks. Judoc brushed them away, and before she knew what she was doing, she kissed her daughter-in-law’s brow as if she had been one of her own children. For a moment they
bonded as they had when Brenus died, all animosity between them forgotten in the common emotion of the instance.

  “What name have you chosen for her, if I may ask?” Judoc inquired, as she pulled up a chair to sit beside her.

  Melisande smiled at her weakly, her face pale with exhaustion and pain, and her eyes red from crying.

  “I have decided to choose an Eirini name in honor of Brenus, and because this is her homeland also. Nolwenn has been helpful in selecting a name. We chose one for a boy, and one for a girl. And the name she shall have is Gwenaelle, which is fitting I think, as it is also very close to the name of my grandmother Gaelle.”

  Judoc smiled in satisfaction; she had expected Melisande to choose a name from her own land and that she had chosen to honor Brenus instead assured her that the girl had had some feelings of affection for her son. At the same time, she stifled a qualm at the memory of the near poisoning of her husband, a poisoning that neither her daughter Nolwenn nor the wise woman Yuna was willing to take responsibility for. And she asked herself again the question that had haunted her ever since the incident occurred: did Melisande take advantage of Nolwenn’s temporary absence to tamper with the healing potion in an attempt to murder her father-in-law?

  Within a week after Gwenaelle’s birth Melisande had regained her strength and was able to care for the baby, and Judoc returned to her own hut. She was surprised at the friction that manifested between Nolwenn and Brand, especially as they had never quarreled with one another or even exchanged angry words in all of their young lives. Dirk had taken on a new somberness of spirit she noticed, and cast some furtive glances at his sister that made his mother slightly uneasy.

  What has happened that I am unaware of, Judoc wondered. These are the children that have always lived on peaceful terms together. It is Maelys who has always stirred up discord with her inability to refrain from giving her opinion and advice, whether it is asked for or not. And she had to admit that Brenus had been no angel either, always quick to erupt in a fit of temper at any insult real or imagined, and to challenge the offender accordingly. With those two out of the picture her home should have been a haven of harmony and a temple of tranquility.

  It was Dirk who enlightened her one evening after Nolwenn had run over to Melisande’s hut to stay for the night should the baby need anything, ensuring that her sister-in-law could rest undisturbed, and Brand had retired to bed.

  Judoc did not hesitate but asked him outright what was wrong between Nolwenn and her brothers. Nor did he hesitate to enlighten her.

  “It is that evil Melisande,” he stated firmly. “She has done her best to win Nolwenn over to her side, and now our sister begins to act just like her!”

  And Dirk fumed silently, his face turning red and his breath coming in short gasps. Judoc waited for him to continue, certain now that his next words would only increase her anxiety regarding her youngest daughter.

  He jerked up his head abruptly and gave Judoc a look of pure frustration at the behavior of women.

  “Since when did Nolwenn, our sweet Nolwenn, ever treat anyone with less than courtesy or respect? Yet last week while you stayed with Melisande, Nolwenn sneered at Brand when he made an observation about Dominio and the Kingdom that I thought was actually rather wise for one of his years. But Nolwenn told him he didn’t know anything, and that no one could prove that Dominio even existed. Is that like our Nolwenn? No, it isn’t!

  “She also skipped morning prayer with us, telling us she did not need to do that as she did not believe in that anymore. Tis only since you returned from Melisande’s that she started joining us again, and that is only with the intention of hiding her behavior from you, Mother. That is why Brand and I have been quarreling with her; the little hypocrite, acting one way when you are gone and another when you are present!”

  Judoc groaned inwardly at this recital. It was what she had always feared, that Nolwenn’s friendship with Melisande would have a harmful effect on her. And now the fruit was evident: the mockery of her family’s beliefs, the refusal to participate in their rites, and even scorning her brother with the same sense of superiority that Melisande had too often shown to Brenus.

  Judoc found herself wishing once again that Melisande had left Eirinia after the death of Brenus, or better yet, had never entered their lives in the first place. Certainly she had never brought anything but pain to the family, and they would be so much happier if she left and never contacted any of them again. In that instant she decided to talk to Melisande and advise her to leave Eirinia altogether.

  And yet, how could she cast the mother of her first grandchild out of the only family she claimed she had left?

  Chapter XXIV

  The Sorceress

  Nolwenn stomped out of the family hut and flung herself down on the cold ground. She let out a sigh of frustration and anger and felt her blood boil. One of these days Dirk would go too far!

  She had returned to the hut last night after making certain that Melisande did not need her help with little Gwenaelle. Already Nolwenn loved this child and took great joy in holding her and rocking her to sleep. How the little darling reminded her of dear Brenus!

  That Melisande was also reminded of him was evident in the look of sorrow that flitted across her face on occasion when she studied the babe’s face. How Nolwenn wished that he was here to see his daughter. How cruel that his life had been snuffed out, so quickly and inexplicably that none knew how it had happened.

  Was that when she had first questioned her faith in Dominio? For surely He could have saved her brother, so why hadn’t He? Was it because He did not exist after all, as Melisande had told her after Brenus’ death?

  Nolwenn had given much thought to all of this, and although her father had been healed after her mother and brother prayed for him when he was poisoned, he was now missing and with no solution to the mystery of his disappearance. Once again she found herself asking questions that no one answered.

  And now this morning Dirk had insisted that she confess to their mother her skipping of prayer during the days that Judoc had spent taking care of Melisande. Nolwenn had glared at her brother with the look Maelys used to give him that dared him silently to say one more word. He said it.

  “Hypocrite!” he sputtered in rage.

  Outraged, Nolwenn picked up the roll of bread on her dish and threw it at him as hard as she could. Of course, he was not injured but her anger was clearly expressed and Judoc had intervened, telling both of them to apologize and ask forgiveness of the other. For Nolwenn this had proved too much to bear.

  “Apologize? When he is the one who started it and called me a name? Why should I have to apologize? I will not do it!”

  She ran from the table before they could stop her and dashed into the woods behind the hut. Only when she was sure that no one had pursued her did she stop and throw herself down on the ground. And the tears she had held back burst out of her as violently as water released from a dam. She cried until she had no tears left, and lay on the ground spent with rage and exasperation.

  Would she always be too young to voice her opinion, to question what others believed that she did not? Why did no one listen to her? All she wanted was the freedom to say what she thought.

  Was that asking too much?

  After a while Nolwenn rose wearily to her feet. She had lain there far too long and her robe was soaked with the morning dew that had not yet dried on the grass. And she had no wish to add a chiding for her carelessness on top of the rest of the lecture she was sure to receive when she returned to the hut.

  She grimaced as she thought of the ire she knew she could expect from Judoc. It was too bad that Maelys had left: her sister could always be counted on to be the one that received the brunt of the maternal wrath when occasion warranted it. Then her lips hardened: she did not miss her sister; she did not miss her at all. In fact, she hoped that she never came back from wherever she had gone.

  A smirk crossed her pretty face as a thought came unbidden: i
t would be amusing to find out exactly where her sister was. Nolwenn glanced around her furtively, and when she determined no one was near she brought out the pendant which Melisande had given her in secret. She had consulted it with increasing frequency over the past few months, and had played a game with the villagers that none was aware of but herself. Whenever she met with some of her friends and one of them idly asked a question about something, she sneaked away on a pretext and secretly consulted the amulet. As soon as it revealed the answer she rejoined her friends and gave them the answer that they sought as if an afterthought to the previous topic of conversation.

  All marveled and were amazed, and she quickly gained a reputation for having the ability to know things that others did not. Such an assumption of power quickly went to her head and she became puffed up with pride. In some mysterious fashion, however, the knowledge of this game was kept hidden from her mother and brothers. Not for the world did Nolwenn wish them to know of her new pastime, sensing that Judoc would take the amulet from her and demand to know where she had obtained such a thing.

  And if she knew that Melisande was the one who had given it to her, her fury would be all the greater, of that she had no doubt!

  But what of Maelys, she wondered idly. What was her sister doing at the moment?

  She turned her attention back to the pendant and gazed into the amulet. Its smoky depths cleared once again and a picture began to form as the answer she sought rose vividly before her eyes.

  She saw her sister in a room more splendid than any that she had ever seen. And she was talking to a young man who was so handsome, that given his godlike looks and the magnificence of his surroundings Nolwenn was sure he must be a prince.