by L. M. Roth
Judoc despaired of that fact, and he knew that in his heart his step-father Dag regarded him as lazy. Cort teased him about it, yet under the banter he sensed that he was serious. Cort himself had built his own small hut and bought a few acres of land which he tilled diligently, yet still helped Dag on his larger property. Brenus convinced himself that he was still needed at home, where his four younger siblings, the children of Dag and Judoc, kept their mother on the run from the time she rose in the morning until the time she sank into grateful sleep at night.
Yet the truth was that Brenus had no desire to work his own acres and was happiest in the woods where he could roam freely and hunt for game, his own contribution to the family dinner, he told himself. And until now, he had met not a single maiden that induced him to give up his freedom to support her.
But now everything was changed. For a fortnight he and Melisande met secretly in the woods. And his heart was taken as it had never been by any other. He rejoiced in the smile that lit her face when she caught sight of him, the demure glances from under lowered lids that she shot up at him from her modestly bowed head, the husky laugh so unlike the high-pitched giggles typical of the maidens of his homeland. In his eyes, she was the ideal of womanhood, and it was not long before he asked her to share his life with him.
He would never forget the day she agreed to become his. They had walked in companionable silence together, listening to the few remaining birds that had not yet flown south for the coming of winter, and enjoying the effect of brilliant sunshine on the leaves now turning gloriously in the mild October air. The forest looked like a shimmering jewel, and as he turned to comment on it to Melisande, he saw that her eyes were slightly closed and she breathed deeply of the scent of leaves beneath their feet. She too, he thought, felt the beauty of this moment, and he found the courage to speak to her of what was in his heart.
“Melisande,” he began.
She turned to him with a slight smile, and the words tumbled from his lips.
“Oh, Melisande! My darling Melisande: will you marry me?”
Such an abrupt declaration of his feelings had not been his intent, but he did not have Cort’s gift with words and the bluntness of his speech at least bespoke his sincerity, even if it did not ring with the romantic cadences that most maidens desired.
Her eyes widened, and she suddenly laughed. But it was a laugh of joy, he saw, and not of mockery. He had feared that she would rebuff his rude proposal, but such was not the case he noted with relief.
“Why, yes…of course, I will,” she said simply as her eyes sparkled in amusement. “When shall we wed?
“You will? You mean it?” Brenus fumbled, hardly daring to believe his good fortune. “As to when, the sooner we are wed, the happier I shall be!”
They laughed and turned to face one another, then clasped their hands and entwined their fingers in the oneness that Brenus already sensed between them.
“Then let us not delay, but marry as soon as it is possible!” Melisande exclaimed.
“Yes, we shall!” Brenus laughed. “But first, we must tell my family. And what of yours? Do you know, I just realized that you have not once mentioned anything of them to me! Are they in your homeland still?”
Melisande’s eyes darkened at the mention of family. Brenus could not believe that he had never noticed such a glaring omission, when the custom was to relate the details of family to strangers in order to establish the stranger as a person of respectability.
Melisande, however, merely shrugged her shoulders.
“There is nothing to tell of them,” she said with an air of nonchalance. “My parents are both dead, and I have no siblings. Therefore, I had nothing to relate to you and am alone in the world.”
As she said this last, he noticed that her lips narrowed and her chin appeared to quiver. Compassion stirred within him, and with it the desire to protect and shelter his love.
“Oh, Melisande,” he whispered tenderly. “My dear Melisande. How lonely you must be at times.”
And he took her hand and kissed it, then stroked it with his fingers.
“Yes, I am at times,” she said with a trace of tears in her eyes. “But no more, because I shall have you, Brenus!”
“You shall indeed!” he exulted.
And he turned to her and swept her off of her feet and swung her in a circle as she laughed in delight and the golden leaves of an oak tree drifted gently around them.
It was painfully obvious to Brenus that his family did not share in his delight when he told them that he was soon to wed. Judoc questioned him at length regarding Melisande’s origins and beliefs. He stated that she was an orphan but would now have him by her side. As to her beliefs, he realized with a start that he had no idea what they were. So entranced was he by her that it had never occurred to him to interrogate her about such things.
Dag found that statement inexcusable.
“Do you mean to tell me,” he bellowed, “that you did not ask her what God she serves? Or if she serves a God at all? How could you not ask such a thing?”
Brenus was both embarrassed and angered by the interrogation. Perhaps he was slack to have omitted such a question. But surely he was old enough to decide such matters for himself!
Judoc sided with her husband.
“Tis true, Brenus,” she nodded her head. “You must be sure to take a bride who will serve Dominio with you, or the union will be cursed.”
“Oh, come now, surely that is too strong a word!” Brenus protested.
“No, it is not,” Dag confirmed. “If you do not both serve Him, no fruit will come of it. Except for evil.”
Inwardly Brenus scoffed, but he did not dare to disagree openly with Dag. He was a man highly respected in the village of Leith and the surrounding territory, and he had always been taught to revere his elders. And Dag had been a good father to him, treating him and Cort with the same love that he had his own children by Judoc.
And yet…Brenus could not agree fully with the reasoning of his mother and step-father. Even if Melisande did not serve Dominio, surely no harm would come of their union.
Chapter VII
Forebodings
They married, but not with the blessing of Dag or Judoc. For the great man from Trekur Lende held firm to his stance: if Melisande did not serve Dominio, no good would come of their union. Judoc asked Brenus what land Melisande came from, and he was dismayed to realize that she had never told him. But did that truly matter, he asked himself. They had fallen in love so quickly that such questions seemed irrelevant to their happiness. He trusted her completely.
Shortly before the wedding day Brenus ventured to sound out Melisande concerning her beliefs. Although it was not the answer that Dag and Judoc would have liked, Brenus found it acceptable to him.
“Melisande,” he began, “I must make arrangements for the marriage ceremony and I need to know your preference. What kind of service do you have in your homeland?”
She looked at him blankly, her eyes appearing to look through him and beyond to something that only she could see. Then she gave a little start and shrugged her shoulders.
“You decide, Brenus,” she replied. “I have no preference.”
“But I must know if you have a particular rite that is performed in your land.”
“Rite?” she wrinkled her nose slightly and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Rite of ceremony, a ritual,” Brenus explained.
He found her response puzzling. Surely she must know what a rite was!
“Why, I have no inkling,” she answered. “We do not have such things in my land.”
“You do not have any rites! Why, what kind of land do you hail from, Melisande?”
She bristled perceptibly as though affronted.
“I hail from a good land! In my land we are free to love and live and laugh! We do not have any dealings with rites and deities, for all they do is impose restrictions and rules. ‘Do this!’ ‘Don’t do that!’ That is all they ar
e good for!”
Brenus swallowed hard.
“Well, in the village of Leith, we serve Dominio, the One true God. We must have the proper rites in the ceremony. What kind of answer is that to give to my mother and father?”
Melisande regarded him with something he would have regarded as a sneer in someone else, but he could not believe her capable of such.
“You may tell them, Brenus,” she stated in a voice that seemed to drip with sarcasm, “that I believe in love.”
Brenus pondered her response. He knew in his heart that neither Dag nor Judoc would be happy with it. And yet…
“Well, Dominio is Love!” he exclaimed. “He is Love itself. So that is what we shall tell them!”
And he eagerly kissed her lips, seeming oblivious to the fact that they were curled in scorn.
That Cort did not like Melisande was soon evident to Brenus. When he introduced her to Dag and Judoc a few days before the ceremony they were courtesy itself, although he knew they were not happy about his choice of a bride. As he presented her to Dag, her eyes widened at the sight of him, then darkened inexplicably. The sight of Dag was an imposing one: he stood a head taller than most men, and still retained the appearance of a bear masquerading as a man with his shaggy head of brown hair, large black eyes and long limbs.
But to his surprise Melisande tightened her lips and gave Dag a cold, tight little smile. Perhaps, he thought, she resents their attitude to the marriage and that is why she looks at him with resentment. To his further astonishment, the smile Melisande bestowed on Judoc was warm and rather shy, as she bowed her head modestly after greeting her. She gave every appearance of a young girl who wished to appease the mother of the man she was to wed.
His younger siblings exhibited milder reactions to his bride. Dirk was the eldest at nineteen, already grown to manhood and with the same imposing appearance as his father. The look of approval in his eye when he glanced at Melisande was somewhat stronger than Brenus would have liked, but it was clear that he approved of his brother’s choice. His younger brother Brand blushed when he was introduced, but at twelve he still found young ladies an exotic species that he was not certain he wanted to make a closer acquaintance with.
It was obvious that sixteen year old Maelys, as tall and willowy as a water lily herself with her mother’s coppery curls and bright blue eyes, looked on Melisande as a rival for attention. It was true that the young men were already flocking around Maelys, only to be intimidated by Dag, who guarded his daughter as zealously as a knight would a young queen. Nolwenn was only just thirteen and regarded her older sister as the font of all knowledge; yet she seemed as delighted by her new sister-in-law as Brenus was.
“Aye, you’ve got a fair one, brother!” Dirk exclaimed as he extended a hand of congratulation to his brother.
Melisande was busy at the moment talking with Judoc about wedding plans, and Brenus had clustered with his younger siblings momentarily.
“How pretty she is!” Nolwenn agreed. “I do hope she shares some of her beauty secrets with me.”
Maelys snorted in a most unladylike manner.
“Why would she do that?” she asked. “She has not even told Brenus…” her voice trailed off as Dirk shot her a glance of warning.
She contented herself with a wry smile and said nothing further as she cast a watchful scrutiny on her sister-in-law to be.
Only Cort, Brenus noted with dismay, responded to Melisande in a manner that denoted more hostility than hospitality. Why this should be was a mystery to Brenus. It was clear that Dag, who still held a special place in his heart for Cort above that of his siblings, had confided to him Melisande’s reluctance to reveal her origins. As for her beliefs, Brenus told Dag and Judoc that she believed in the God of love, but neglected to tell them that Melisande had actually excluded “God” from her declaration.
It would appear that Cort, however, sensed something amiss and was wary of his new relative. Their introduction was an event that would stand out in his memory for some time to come.
Cort had been away for several days before the wedding and did not meet Melisande until after the ceremony.
“Cort! Come, you must meet my bride, Melisande!” he exclaimed eagerly as he took his brother by the arm and dragged him to where Melisande was surrounded by well wishers from the village.
Melisande was radiant as she received the good wishes of old friends of the family, and her smile lit her face with the glow of a candle throwing off the shadows of night. She flashed a look of triumph at Brenus as he approached, basking in the welcome of the local folk. He clasped her hand and gently led her out of the circle and presented her to Cort.
A flash of fire was exchanged between them, the source of which he did not know. Was it as their eyes met, or was it after they greeted one another? Something happened, but what it was he did not know…
“Welcome, sister,” Cort said, as he bowed over her hand.
“Thank you, brother,” Melisande replied, quickly veiling her eyes with her lids, then glancing up at him once more.
“I understand you are a stranger to Eirinia,” Cort remarked.
“Yes, I am newly come to your shores,” she answered. “But I am sure I will find Eirinia very much to my liking. Very much indeed.”
Cort frowned suddenly, and gave her a look of perplexity.
“Have we met before? For your voice is strangely familiar to me.”
Melisande laughed slightly and shook her head.
“No, we have not. I am sure I would remember if we had.”
Cort, however, persisted in his interrogation.
“Yes, there is something about your voice. I know I have heard it before, or one similar. Where are you from, Melisande?”
Melisande bristled and answered indirectly.
“And where are you from? Your voice does not have the same accents as the rest of the villagers. You are not from Eirinia yourself, are you, brother?”
Cort shook his head.
“No, I am not from Eirinia, but from Trekur Lende far to the north.”
“Trekur Lende!” Melisande exclaimed as her eyes widened inexplicably, but quickly recovered herself. “That is, I mean to say, really? From that far away?”
“Have you heard of Trekur Lende?” Cort asked her with a quizzical look.
“Yes, I believe I have heard of it in passing, somewhere. Is it not a wild country full of untamed barbarians?”
Cort laughed.
“I have not heard myself called such in years! Not since Felix…” his voice trailed away and he gazed off into the distance.
Then he turned back to Melisande.
They looked one another fully in the eye, and then she spoke.
“How did you come to Eirinia from Trekur Lende, Cort? It is a long journey, and not one that most people would take I am sure. For what could have brought you here, to a land that many would not find hospitable?”
“They would not find Trekur Lende any more hospitable I am certain!” Cort laughed. “However, I came here with my father more than twenty years ago. The land itself was incidental in our journey, but we stayed when he married Judoc.”
Melisande started, and then paled as though she had received a jolt of surprise.
“Judoc is not your mother then? You came here with Dag? From Trekur Lende? Is your real mother dead?” and her voice rose until it cracked as she questioned him.
Cort narrowed his eyes and stared at her intently.
“No, my mother is not dead. And Dag is not my father, really. He adopted me after I ran away from home. My parents know this; they know I am with him.”
Melisande drew her breath in sharply and grew paler still.
“Oh!” she whispered.
She glanced from Cort to Brenus in apparent dismay.
“What have I done?” she murmured under her breath.
Yet they both heard, and wondered at her words.
Just then Judoc came over to the group. She laughed as she took ho
ld of Melisande’s hand.
“Come, Melisande. The maids are wondering when you will throw the bridal favor. They are all eager to see who shall wed next!”
Brenus was startled to hear the giggles emanating from the waiting maidens. So intent was he on watching his wife and his brother that he was oblivious to all else around him. Now he noted the prevailing note of gaiety, the smell of the peat fire that warmed the room from the chill of the autumn dusk, the spicy apple aroma of the hot punch that was passed round in celebration.
Melisande went with Judoc docilely. In fact, Brenus thought, she seemed rather relieved. She greeted the assembled maidens with a dazzling smile and they clustered in a circle around her like attendants on a young queen.
He turned back to Cort, who looked after Melisande with a puzzled frown furrowing his forehead.
“Who is this bride of yours, Brenus? And why did she suddenly seem so dismayed?”
Brenus was as mystified as his brother.
“I do not know, Cort. I am as much in the dark as you are.”
Cort still stared at Melisande with a boring gaze, as if intent on baring the secrets of her soul.
“Well, you should have discovered before taking her to wife, brother. For no good will come of this marriage; that I warrant!”
And Cort did not wait for his response, but stalked out of the hut and into the glooming twilight.
Chapter VIII
School In Solone
A gentle breeze was blowing in Solone. It stirred the leaves of a majestic acacia tree that crowned the top of the hill. How long it had stood there no one was certain. It had always stood there, so far as anyone knew, and would stand there until the end of time.
Its antiquity had much in common with the odd little house that was the only visible invasion of man upon the hilltop. Cut into the rock itself it was, surrounded by rocks on all sides. It was said that it was the only remaining structure of a city that had stood here long ago. But a mighty volcanic eruption had destroyed the city and much of the surrounding terrain, leaving only rocky promontories of hardened lava formed from the destruction, and a small inland sea far below where the crater had once spewed out smoke and ash.