by L. M. Roth
Nolwenn had just turned fifteen, and next month she could stand with the other maidens on the Green at Spring Festival and receive flowers from the young men of the village. The thought amused her greatly; Maelys would at last have competition as the reigning beauty of Leith, and what a surprise that it should be from her own sister!
It was true that over the winter months Nolwenn had blossomed. She was small of stature like her mother Judoc, but she had now acquired her figure, and her dark eyes shimmered softly and her mane of dark brown hair flowed down her back with the gloss of a filly running freely in the spring sunshine. She had noticed the looks the young men had starting casting in her direction during their weekly meetings to praise Dominio.
Dominio. The thought of Him did not make her comfortable. She was as adamant in her feelings as she had been last autumn when Dirk reprimanded her for skipping morning prayer. She could not skip the weekly meetings; the entire village attended and it would cause public shame to her parents were she to omit them. She had no wish to participate in prayer in the privacy of the family, but she would not shame her parents, whom she dearly loved.
She wondered how they fared in Valerium. She had no desire to accompany her mother and Cort. A great city such as Potentus would have only alarmed her with its noise and crowding; she preferred the quiet and space of Eirinia with its green hills, sparkling streams, and mysterious forests.
The thought of Eirinia made her frown. It was true that lately it had lost its emerald green luster, and had taken on a dull brown tint that looked like mud had cascaded down upon it from a source unknown. The hills were brown, the streams were muddy, and the forests held hidden danger…
Since the incident with Erwan last summer, extra precautions had been taken by the villagers. The young people were admonished to never travel alone, and never after dark. For the night terrors had returned, and the village was afraid.
Nolwenn first heard the news shortly after her mother and Cort left with the others for Valerium. It had been a cloudy February day that was already turning balmy with the mild air of spring when a visitor from Annick arrived to spend the day with a few of the ladies of Leith. Neither of the villages was heavily populated and there was much visiting back and forth between the ladies of both villages to exchange news, help with spring cleaning, and to possibly make matches between maidens from one village to young men from the other.
Nolwenn had been present, as she was now fifteen and considered old enough to join the village women in their activities. She did not miss the covert glances that the visitor, whose name was Loana, cast on her; she knew the woman had a son only a little older than she was and it was evident that the woman noted that fact also. She inwardly shrugged: marriage was not something that interested her yet, but she knew she would have to marry at some point, as that was woman’s lot in life.
The women had been exchanging the latest gossip of both villages, and Loana waited until her hostesses were finished before imparting her news.
“Have you heard anything of the night creatures returning?” she asked in hushed tones, as if fearful of being heard beyond the confines of the four walls.
“Night creatures? Do you mean those who walk by night?” asked a young woman who was not much older than Maelys.
“Yes, that is what I do mean,” Loana answered as she nodded her head vigorously.
“No,” Niamh replied. “We have not heard anything of the sort.”
Loana started to open her mouth, and then closed it abruptly. She looked around the room at the faces that stared at her in frank curiosity, but said nothing.
“Why do you ask?” Maelys inquired sharply.
Loana hesitated for a moment, but noting the impatient air of Maelys she knew she had no course open to her but to finish what she had started.
“Well, it was three nights ago now, when my Pierrick was coming home after some night fishing. I do not know why he likes to fish after the sun sets, yet he does, and his father and I just let him do as he pleases. There is not much that does please him so we are glad when he finds something he likes to do. It keeps him busy, you see, and I can not abide a lazybones.”
Here Maelys rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh of frustration. Nolwenn wished she would not be so open about expressing her feelings, but Maelys never had much patience, and it was clear that she found Loana’s recital tedious and wished her to get on with it.
Loana must have also caught the undercurrents for she suddenly picked up the pace of her narrative and continued.
“So, he was returning from his fishing I said, and he was not more than ten yards from the wall of the village when he heard it.”
Loana cast a glance at her listeners to gauge their reactions. Observing Maelys’ tightly clamped lips, she hurried to finish.
“He heard it I said; it was the sound of someone pacing back and forth, back and forth, right in front of the village wall. But there was no one there that he could see. It gave him a fright, I tell you. He froze, not knowing what to do, whether to go forward to the village or to go back to the stream.”
Loana shuddered, and suddenly the atmosphere of the room turned ice cold. Nolwenn felt a chill go through her, and she saw the eyes of the women in the room widen as they riveted their attention on their guest.
“And?” Maelys prodded Loana. “What happened?”
“Well, Pierrick took a deep breath to fortify himself you might say, and then he ran to the wall and pounded on the door for the watchman to let him in. He did so, and Pierrick told him what he heard. The watchman laughed at first, but then as they stood there discussing this you might say, all of a sudden they heard a boom! against the door after the watchman shut it. It gave them a fright I tell you; and when they opened the door they saw no one. No one at all.”
The ladies of Leith cast frightened glances at one another but said nothing. The unspoken thought in the room was that the night creatures had not walked abroad in more than twenty years, not since Dag Adalbart had arrived and banished every evil spirit from the vicinity. Why had they returned?
It was two nights later that Maelys and Kyrene strolled after the evening meal to enjoy the fresh air after the confinement of the hut. She had desired a walk, and before Lucius could volunteer to escort her, Kyrene intervened and said she would love to spend some time with her. Lucius had no alternative but to remain in the hut, but Kyrene was amused to see the sulky expression that came over his handsome face. Her amusement quickly turned to concern when she mused on the fact that there was probably no future for these two young people and she earnestly hoped that neither of them would be hurt.
As she and Maelys walked in companionable silence through the Green, Kyrene’s sense of peace slowly evaporated, but why she did not know. There had been nothing to upset her day, no outburst from Nolwenn against one of her siblings, no bad news from Valerium to cause alarm: yet she felt a dread and an uneasiness creeping over her.
She gradually slowed down her pace, and Maelys was quick to note it. Kyrene’s ears picked up, and she ceased walking altogether. Her hazel eyes widened and filled with fear until she looked to Maelys like a doe that hears the approach of the hunter’s steps and knows that it is only a matter of time before he finds her hiding place…
“Kyrene?”
Kyrene raised a finger to her lips, silencing her. She cocked her head to one side and leaned her body forward. And then she spoke.
“Do you hear it?” she whispered to Maelys.
At first Maelys heard nothing. She strained to hear, leaning her body in the direction that Kyrene did. Only then did she hear it.
Coming from beyond the village wall, perhaps a dozen yards beyond it, came the sound of footsteps; footsteps that paced slowly back and forth, back and forth.
Chapter X
The Edict of Iacomus
Although spring was in full bloom the Imperial Palace felt as though it was still caught in winter’s unrelenting grasp. If an icy blast had blown through the Palace it
would not have surprised the Palace Guards who waited on the Emperor with anxious hearts, fearful lest they manage to bring the Emperor’s ire down on their luckless heads.
None of the Guards felt the bleak atmosphere more than Iosephus, not a man of cheerful disposition himself, or known as such. It had been November when his old friend Odelius had disappeared from Valerium at the same time that Justus Lucius, one of the Emperor’s prisoners, had also escaped from his dungeon. Gossip was rampant that Odelius had managed to release him and had escaped with him for parts unknown.
Iosephus missed Odelius sorely: the two had worked together for so long that their names were linked together by the other Guards when speaking of one or the other. Should one appear at the dining hall where the Guards had their meals without the other, the other one was inquired about. Therefore it was not unusual for others to hear, “Odelius, where is Iosephus?” if he should be absent. But for the past few months none had dared ask Iosephus where Odelius was, although there were those who suspected that he knew full well where his old friend was hiding.
In truth, Iosephus had not had any word from Odelius. He suspected that wherever Justus Lucius had gone, that Odelius had gone also. But Iosephus was mystified as to why Odelius would take the risk of releasing a royal prisoner. Surely he knew that he could not hide from the Emperor for long! The Empire was too vast, her army too strong; it would only be a matter of time before Odelius would be discovered and brought back to face imprisonment himself for aiding a prisoner in his escape.
The real question that Iosephus asked himself over and over was: for what possible reason would Odelius help Justus Lucius escape? And the answer that came to him over and over was: none. Justus was a complete stranger to Odelius. Oh, certainly he knew who he was; Justus had been on the Council for years. But he had no contact with Odelius prior to his incarceration as the unwilling guest of the Emperor.
And so Iosephus puzzled over the mystery, and came up with his own solution: Odelius had been framed and helped out of the capital by someone else who wanted Justus released. And Iosephus had a very good idea who that someone was.
Iosephus remembered the days of long ago when Empress Aurora sat on the throne and forced a young Marcus Maximus to imperil himself on a quest to satisfy her own desires. And he recalled as well the young friend of Marcus named Felix, none other than the son of Justus Lucius. Who else but Marcus Maximus would wish Justus to be released? And who would he contact to effect that release but Odelius, a Guard who was well-known to Marcus and was fond of him. If there was anyone that Odelius would take such a grave risk for, it would be him.
But Iosephus was incorrect in his surmise, and if he had known the truth he would never have believed it.
The Emperor sat on his throne listening to the report from his Minister of State. Decimus Hadrianus met with Iacomus every morning to inform him of the latest happenings in the Empire according to the messages that he received every morning either by post or the messengers who ran from one end of the Empire to the other with urgent news that could not afford the delay incurred through travel by voyage when a ship might be hindered by bad weather. Decimus unfurled the scrolls and read in a monotone the list of petitions from the provinces that requested either financial aid or military protection from surrounding barbarian forces that attempted periodically to invade the Valeriun Empire through one of the smaller nations under her thumb.
The Emperor yawned: he was not greatly interested in hearing those requests, but it was a duty imposed on him by his royal office. He would have left it all to Decimus to deal with, but as Emperor he had to at least give the appearance of seeming interested in the welfare of the Empire’s citizens. In truth, he did not care for the populace as a whole, and as individuals even less so. It was merely power over the people that he desired, to be obeyed and feared; their welfare was of no concern to him.
As Decimus neared the end of reading through the messages, the Emperor turned to him abruptly. He tapped a finger idly on the arm of the throne and raised one hand for Decimus to cease. His Minister of State complied with his wishes and snapped his mouth shut.
“Tell me,” Iacomus drawled, “what news do you have of this prisoner who escaped from our hospitality last November? Has anyone seen him, or know where he is hiding?”
Decimus restrained the urge to swallow for fear of giving himself away. He concentrated on keeping his face impassive and his eyes unblinking as he sought for a satisfactory answer. None came, so he decided to lie.
“No, Your Grace; I have heard no news of the man.”
“Hmm,” Iacomus murmured as his eyes stared off into space. “It worries me that one could leave our dungeon; I hear he was helped by one of the Palace Guards. Is that true? And where is he?”
“Well, they did disappear simultaneously, so it is generally assumed that the Guard helped the man to escape. But I have heard no news of their whereabouts since that time.”
Here Decimus bowed.
“I should be sure to report any news of them if I hear it, Your Grace.”
The Emperor pursed his lips and drummed the fingers of one hand on his knee.
“Well, give the order that if anyone does hear of either of them, they should be put to death at once. I do not even want them in my dungeon: I want them dead. That should punish them for daring to insult their Emperor.”
Decimus bowed again.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The Emperor then thought of another matter. His eyes widened and he snapped his fingers.
“What do you hear of our subjects in the provinces? Do they worship Dominio, or do they persist as those rebels did who insisted on keeping the Festival of Regat?”
Decimus suddenly appeared ill at ease, and he delayed his answer to the Emperor. He would have refused to answer, but realized that an answer was required and to refuse was to insult his sovereign.
“I do not know of what you speak, Your Grace. I have heard of no rebellion, but I do not have access to reports of how people in the provinces worship, and therefore can not answer your question to your satisfaction.”
Iacomus shot a glance at Decimus that caused alarm to surge through his body. He knew Iacomus was not easy to fool, and would not hesitate to punish his Minister of State, old friend though he was, were he to be caught in a lie.
“I mean, Decimus, whether they persist in their old beliefs, or if they have bowed their knee to Dominio as I ordered them to?”
“Ah, well, that I do not know, Your Grace. Or rather, I have not heard any news to the contrary. Therefore they must be obeying the Emperor’s edict.”
“Find out, Decimus. I will not tolerate pagan practices in the Valeriun Empire. I want you to send word throughout the provinces that any caught serving any deity but Dominio shall be punished with death. And any who do not bow the knee to Dominio shall be given the opportunity to do so. If they refuse, they shall join those who burned at the stake for their rebellion in serving Regat.”
He stared at Decimus with eyes that pierced him as coldly as the steel blade of a sword. A trickle of sweat ran down Decimus’ brow and stopped on his upper lip. He did not dare lick it off, but looked expectantly at Iacomus.
It was clear that Iacomus was waiting for a response, but Decimus was frozen in place, speech strangled in his throat.
“Is that clear, Decimus?” Iacomus spat out the words at him, spittle flying from his tightly clenched jaw.
With an effort Decimus was at last able to nod his head.
“Yes, Your Grace. It shall be done.”
Chapter XI
The Miracle Man
When he was finally released from the presence of the Emperor, Decimus hastened to his own ante-chamber where he sent for Dag Adalbart, the man that Iacomus called his miracle man, to come to his ante-chamber.
He did not have long to wait. In the intervening days since Dominio had used Dag to raise Iacomus from the dead, Decimus had wondered about the man. He had seen Iacomus die with his own e
yes, felt the lack of a pulse, and saw that his breath was stopped within him. He had no doubt that some kind of miracle had taken place, but he was not sure how it had happened.
Decimus was not religious in any way and had never sought the assistance of any deity, and was not comfortable with the edict that Iacomus enforced on the citizens of Valerium to worship Dominio. He did not know exactly what the Alexandrians believed, although Antonius had mentioned some things to him out of his youthful enthusiasm. But when Iacomus had persecuted the Alexandrians Decimus did not think it wise for his son to speak of Dominio and had forbidden him to say anything to him for fear of being overheard. Now that the pendulum of Iacomus had swung the other way and forced everyone to worship Dominio, Decimus did not think it wise to discuss the Alexandrians with Antonius for fear that someone would hear and discover that he himself did not worship Dominio.
It had occurred to Decimus that if anyone would know, it was the miracle man who been instrumental in raising Iacomus. Decimus had not spoken to Dag when he was a prisoner, there being no reason for conversing with him. But since Iacomus had released him from the dungeon and installed him in an office Dag had roused the curiosity of Decimus.
For one thing, he was not a fawning courtier who attempted to lick the Emperor’s sandals or his own in quest of favor. All of Valerium sought power, but it was clear to Decimus that Dag Adalbart did not. He was also a man, a real man, who did not care about wearing fine attire or being seen with the right people at an Imperial Banquet. Although Dag was forced to wear finer robes than his own and elegant sandals now that he had been given a title, it was clear that he cared not for such things and would just as soon have worn his own rustic homespun garments and leather boots.
