by L. M. Roth
“I have a question for you also, Yuna: why did you curse Melisande and her baby the day you called on her? I was there, remember? What kind of curse did you call down on her, and why?”
A sly look came into Yuna’s old eyes, and she seemed to see beyond Nolwenn at something that was visible only to her.
“I cursed her because she attempted to murder your father. Oh, don’t bristle at me, my girl, I know she did! I know full well what herbs I put in the potion I gave you, and I wouldn’t harm Dag Adalbart for the world. But your Melisande would; for she hates him as I have seen few hate in my time. Consumes her it does; and it will be the death of her if she does not let it go.
“As for the curse I laid on her, tis only what she deserves. She attempted to snuff out the life of another before his time, so nothing dear to her will ever fulfill its promise. And that is all the information you need, missy! For I know you’ll go running to your precious sister-in-law and repeat everything I have just told you. Well, go on, I say; twill not do you any good.”
And Yuna rose from her boulder, spat on the ground again, and left Nolwenn alone on the stump to fume in silence.
Chapter XXI
Nolwenn Awakes
The time for Spring Festival had come again, and once more, Nolwenn was excluded because her parents were not there to present her to the young men.
She inwardly shrugged; she was in no great hurry to marry. She was sixteen now, but considered that she had plenty of time to have children and raise them. And in truth, there was not a young man among the villagers who had taken her eye yet.
She was relieved that Pierrick lived in Annick and she was not subjected to his constant presence in Leith. For already his mother Loana was determined to make a match between them. She found herself wondering whether her own mother would be amenable to that, especially as Judoc had always possessed a bright intelligence and would not wish to see her daughter bound to a young man that was so obviously slow of wit and dull of intellect.
She decided that it was a matter for pondering later, once her parents had returned from Valerium. She wondered how they fared, having heard only sporadic news from them since her mother and brothers had gone to be with Dag. Brand wrote that life in Potentus was interesting but somewhat noisy, as the sound of chariots were heard from dawn to dusk, and it seemed that there was a procession every time the Emperor left his Palace, which necessitated the blowing of trumpets that all the city might know that their sovereign was among them, the better for them to bow down and do homage.
He also wrote of darker matters, the burning of heretics at the command of the Emperor, a horrifying event to witness, and to listen to the screams of those tormented in their last moments on earth was too cruel for anyone with an ounce of humanity in them to bear. Brand truly wondered if the Emperor had any humanity at all; for he could watch the burnings from the balcony that led off of his throne room and then call for meat and wine. How could anyone who behaved in such a manner possibly order others to worship Dominio, for He was love itself, and Iacomus was the personification of evil and malice if you asked Brand!
Nolwenn read these accounts with a growing sense of terror. To read of such atrocities was far worse in her eyes and more to be feared, than the accounts from the villagers of strange beings who walked about after dark. Such strange tales as were being told these days: the sound of someone pacing back and forth in front of the village gates, the sound of someone walking in the woods, but no one was to be seen. Nolwenn was not alarmed at these rumors, for such was to be expected if one lived in Eirinia, according to the older people who remembered when such goings on were the norm.
It was her father, so she was told, who had put an end to all of that. And Nolwenn had been told that from the time she was a child also. Why did these things arise now? Was it due to her father’s absence? And when he returned, would they flee at his coming?
If the grass was not the usual emerald green of other springs, but was indeed, tinged with a dreary brown, it was ignored and the Festival proceeded in the customary manner. Flowers bedecked the tresses of the village maidens, so fair that they put their floral adornments to shame. They danced in a circle together, waiting for the tributes from the young men to begin. There was much laughter and blushing, each one secretly hoping that the young man of her choice would bring her a flower as an invitation to dance.
Maelys did not dance this year. To her younger sister, she appeared pale and drawn, as if she had suddenly aged and merrymaking was a thing of the past for her. Indeed, Maelys stood close to Kyrene all the evening, with Lucius and Dirk hovering in the background. They also appeared distracted, yet alert for Nolwenn knew not what.
Since she could not be presented to the young men and was therefore not permitted to dance with the young people, she drew apart from the others and went to stand with Melisande, who had brought Gwenaelle to enjoy the spectacle. Melisande seemed in merry spirits, laughing as she watched the dancers whirling about to the playing of pipes and reeds. Nolwenn saw Yuna emerge from her hut, and averted her eyes, hoping the old woman would not see her and decide to join them. That she was capable of doing so out of pure malice Nolwenn knew, and it would be hard not to give the old woman the rough side of her own tongue if she tried to bait her or Melisande on this festive occasion.
Melisande also noticed Yuna and turned her back to her slightly. She turned a smile on her young sister-in-law and Gwenaelle suddenly reached out to Nolwenn. This delighted her aunt, who gladly picked her up and swung her gently around. The little girl was thrilled and giggled, begging for more. So Nolwenn repeated her gyrations and laughed with her small niece.
When she felt herself out of breath and growing somewhat dizzy, she stopped, and to the pleadings of Gwenaelle she begged for mercy that she might recover. This did not please the young tyrant, who puckered up her small mouth and screamed. When this did not induce Nolwenn to give in to her tantrum, the little girl pulled at her aunt’s mane of dark hair, bringing tears to Nolwenn’s eyes. She struggled to release Gwenaelle’s grip on her hair, and the child then pulled at the neck of her robe, tearing it and exposing Nolwenn’s neck, collarbone, and part of her chest.
Melisande exclaimed and grabbed the child from Nolwenn, urging her to cover herself up. The tear was not deep, however, and Nolwenn was able to say that she was still modestly attired. But Melisande gave her a peculiar look and drew her away from the group of revelers.
“Hurry, you must cover up your pendant before others see it,” she urged.
She looked expectantly to where the pendant should hang around Nolwenn’s neck beneath her robe; but it was not there. Melisande appeared taken aback, and gave her sister-in-law a questioning look.
“Nolwenn,” she whispered, “where is the amulet I gave you? I do not see it, and I wanted you to wear it always, as a special gift from me. Where is it?”
Nolwenn froze and a strange fear swept through her. She inadvertently glanced over at Dirk and then back to Melisande. But Melisande had seen. Suddenly her green eyes narrowed and their black lashes came down over them as she clamped her lips tightly.
“Yes? I am waiting, Nolwenn,” she said in a voice that cut through her young sister-in-law like a dive into a pool of icy water in the middle of January.
“I, I, there was an accident, Melisande,” she stammered helplessly.
“An accident?” Melisande repeated in a disbelieving tone. “What kind of accident?”
Nolwenn felt that her knees would give way and she would crash to the ground. Why did her heart hammer so in her chest? Surely Melisande must be able to hear it, and know that something was amiss!
She saw Dirk approach out of the corner of her eye. He had noticed the incident with Gwenaelle and saw her tear Nolwenn’s robe, and he was slowly circling Nolwenn and Melisande from behind. An inexplicable sense of relief flooded her suddenly, and she knew that if she needed him, Dirk would be there.
The knowledge gave her the courage she needed to mak
e her confession to Melisande.
“Yes, there has been an accident, and I am afraid that as a result the amulet has been destroyed,” she stated boldly as she looked Melisande directly in the eye.
Melisande gasped and turned an ugly shade of bright pink, a shade that was not quite purple, a shade that set Nolwenn’s teeth on edge and gave her warning. She backed away slowly from her sister-in-law. But Melisande grabbed her arm and pulled her close to her. She drew back her arm and slapped her hard across the face.
Nolwenn felt the air leave her lungs and she felt a pain in the pit of her stomach. The blow stung and tears sprang to her eyes. She fought the urge to cry and faced her sister-in-law.
“How dare you hit me like that? I, who have never given you anything but love and understanding! Apologize to me, Melisande: I insist on it.”
Melisande jeered at her openly, and to Nolwenn it was as though a stranger who wore her sister-in-law’s face stood there, mocking her and hissing at her like a viper about to strike.
“I will treat you any way that I choose!” Melisande spat at her. “I should have known that an ignorant country girl like you would treat such a treasure so carelessly. Serves me right for thinking you had grown up!”
Nolwenn was no longer afraid: she was disgusted by the scorn she saw in Melisande’s face. The mask of kind concern had dropped, and she would never be fooled by it again. Too late she remembered all of the warnings from her family and even from Yuna regarding Melisande.
“Ignorant, am I? No, I would say that innocent is a more appropriate word. But perhaps that is a word you do not know the meaning of, Melisande. I can see now that everyone was right about you, everyone who warned me of you! Well, I have learned now: you are no friend of mine.”
She turned her back on Melisande but this only seemed to infuriate her all the more. She pulled on Nolwenn’s hair, even as her daughter had done. Nolwenn cried out, but Dirk was there, with Maelys right behind him.
He slapped at Melisande’s wrist, a gesture that startled her so that she let go her hold on Nolwenn’s hair. She whirled on Dirk with her nails out, ready to claw him, but he twisted her hand and she cried out in pain.
“I would not do that if I were you,” he warned. “For I am not some fine aristocratic gentleman that would never raise his hand against a woman. I’ll slap you, I will, and not regret it one bit. You’d best take yourself off to your hut before I decide to do just that.”
He glared at her with dark stormy eyes, and her own green ones had the look of a furious feline that just been robbed of the mouse it had so patiently stalked and set a trap for. Nolwenn drew back from her and moved close to Maelys, a move that was not lost on Melisande.
“Hmpf!” she huffed. “So the sisters Adalbart are reunited, are they? And for how long will that be, I wonder? Considering the shrewish disposition of the elder and the insufferable stupidity of the younger, I can not see that lasting long.”
Maelys put an arm around Nolwenn, who nestled close and hid her face against her sister’s shoulder.
“It was only your sorcery and deceptions that came between us at all, Melisande,” Maelys addressed her. “And now that you are exposed for the vixen that you are, I do not think you will be able to deceive my sister again; or any member of my family.”
“Sorcery?” Melisande mocked her in a silken tone. “Why, what do you mean by sorcery? I am no witch!”
“Well, now that is debatable,” Yuna announced as she joined them.
Melisande rolled her eyes and turned a malicious glare on the old woman that gave Nolwenn a tingle up her spine.
“And just what do you mean by that remark?” she snapped.
“I mean, that you took instruction from Enora on sorcery, before you met Brenus. You stayed with her in Annick when you arrived here, and that is where you stayed before you married him. I know, because she boasted about it to me when I called on her to inquire about you, so proud she was at your aptitude for it. And I have seen you spinning a web around this young one, hoping to pull her in, and she so innocent that she did not even know what you were doing as I found out when I tested her. And you know how distraught her father would be at such practices, him who cleansed this land of the Tuadan, who have now returned at your call, yours and Enora’s!”
Yuna spat at Melisande, who quickly ducked out of the way of the spittle. She glanced from her to Dirk, and then at Nolwenn, who appeared stunned at the accusation. Indeed, Nolwenn appeared on the verge of tears, and for a moment Melisande wavered, and did not say whatever she had been about to utter.
She contented herself with casting a look of pure hatred on the old woman before stomping away to her own hut.
“You are an evil old woman, and you will be repaid for your wickedness!” she flung at her as she stalked off.
When she had gone, Nolwenn turned to Dirk and Maelys, hurt and bewilderment written in every line of her young face. Maelys was overcome with tenderness and put her arms out to her sister. Nolwenn threw herself into them and wept softly. Dirk put his arms around both of them and held them close.
“Twill be alright,” he soothed. “Dominio is yet in control, and He will work everything out.”
To the surprise of Dirk and Maelys, Niamh did not attempt to call on the gods of old during the festival. The omission worried them, rather than reassured them that all was as it should be among the villagers. Dirk did not miss the exchange of furtive glances between Niamh and some of the women.
What are they up to, I wonder? And why did they not come forward openly as they have at previous festivals?
And he wondered if they had come to their senses regarding their former rebellion, or if they had merely decided to meet in secret, all the better to be unhindered by those who gave their allegiance to Dominio?
Chapter XXII
The Emperor’s Conclusion
The people of Valerium spent most days looking over their shoulders, alert for any sign of danger from the Imperial Palace. Ever since the escape of the miracle man and his entire family the Emperor had been incensed. He did not take kindly to having his hospitality thrown back in his face, and he did not like being without his miracle man. What should happen now if he needed a miracle, and this wild man from Eirinia was not there to perform it?
Some said that the Emperor was mad, others that he was a victim of superstition who had fallen prey to a charlatan who then crept out in the dead of night, and now the Emperor would force all of the Valeriun Empire to bow to a God that not everyone believed in. Why, everyone knew that his own Minister of State did not worship this Dominio, and yet he was permitted to live: why not others? Why must they die a horrible death and be branded heretics if they simply could not believe?
All of Potentus was agog when the news of Dag Adalbart’s escape from his gilded cage was discovered and told in every street of the city. Opinions were varied and many as to why the man had taken off with his family, and how it was carried off in full view of the Palace Guards, everyone of whom had fallen sound asleep on duty, something that had never happened in the long history of the Empire. Perhaps the man was a miracle worker after all and had cast the entire Guard into a deep sleep!
Those who heard the news and had friends or family who served in the Guard waited with anxious hearts to hear the news of their fate. For it was inconceivable that the Emperor would permit the escape of his miracle man without someone taking the blame for it. The Guards themselves attempted to do their duty as usual, yet knew they would not get off lightly for what would be deemed a dereliction of duty.
He made them wait. As a spider leaves the fly hanging an indefinite time in the web before finally devouring it, so too did Iacomus torment the Guards. He spoke to none of them when they attended him, and indeed, signaled to his personal attendants to take care of his requirements, all the time leaving the Guards to feel ignored as those who simply did not exist.
At last the decision came on a day in early May, three weeks after the miracle man’s es
cape. Every one of them, Iacomus decreed, every one of the Palace Guards were to be executed, taken to the courtyard of the Imperial Palace, and have archers shoot them with arrows until they were dead.
Decimus had just returned from Lycenium when the news was announced. He had paid only a brief visit to Antonius and Felicia, but must return to his post as quickly as possible. When the news was given to him of the Emperor’s decision he was as stunned as any of the ordinary citizens of Potentus.
He hastened to the Emperor’s ante-room and requested an audience with him. To his astonishment, he was informed that the Emperor was occupied and he would have to wait; he was advised to return the following day. For Decimus Hadrianus, who had grown up with Iacomus and was considered his closest friend, this treatment was a great shock.
He left the ante-room with the smirk of his usual bravado in place, but hurried to his own apartment in the Palace, where Paulina greeted him languidly. She was tired from the voyage and had attempted to rest a few hours, but something in the atmosphere disturbed her. She greeted her husband with a face that was pale and festooned with bags under her eyes that bore testament to her weariness and sense of unease.
“Decimus,” she said hesitantly, always fearful of rousing his temper, “something strange is going on since we were last in Potentus. I rang for my attendants and they kept me waiting, actually waiting! for my bedcovers to be turned down so that I could catch a few hours of sleep. I am not accustomed to being treated in such a cavalier manner; what ails them, Decimus?”
On any other occasion Decimus might have found solace in merely rolling his eyes at his wife’s insipidity, but having just been in essence rebuffed by the Emperor, he took this incident as a disturbing indicator of a deeper danger, from he knew not where. That Paulina should be treated so was the more troubling in view of the fact that it was widely known that she was the Emperor’s cousin…
