by L. M. Roth
They exchanged these caresses regardless of the strangers who walked by them, and Felicia stifled a desire to laugh. How shocked and appalled her parents would be had they seen their behavior! Both of them adhered to the Valerian code of rigid decorum in public places, conducting oneself with dignity when among strangers.
Although Felicia knew that her parents loved one another deeply with an abiding passion, she had never witnessed them display any affection except for the evening her father had whisked her mother off her feet in her exhaustion after returning from Lucerna, and tenderly kissed her forehead. It was, she thought, the difference between their generation and hers, a generation that was waking to the darkness of the world around them and wished to snatch at every moment of living that it could grasp, lest tomorrow be too late.
After walking for more than two miles in the crowded streets, they arrived at last at the ministerial home of Decimus and Paulina. They would be their guests while staying in the city, Antonius had explained to her. However, he had not written to tell his father to expect them, and it was with genuine surprise that his parents greeted them. Surprise and concern, Felicia observed. For it was true that no Alexandrian was safe in the city of Potentus.
A formal banquet had been scheduled for the evening, one which could not be broken for fear of offending protocol. Otherwise, Paulina told them, she and Decimus would have loved nothing more than to spend the entire evening with their children, for was not Felicia their daughter now that she had married their son?
This was a thought that brought genuine joy to her mother-in-law, Felicia realized. It was true that Paulina had always longed for a daughter, but had only borne one child. Why that was she did not say, but Felicia knew that it was not uncommon for a woman to be so injured giving birth to one child that she could never bear another. It was something to be accepted as beyond her power to change or control.
The banquet was the bore that Felicia expected, but as the evening wore on she detected undercurrents that caught her attention and held it fast. Although she and Antonius had not been expected, Paulina managed to put them at a table with Vibianus and Livia Pomponius, old friends of her parents. That they seemed astonished at her marriage was evident by the wide-eyed stare that Livia greeted her with before managing to recover her manners. Vibianus was more discreet in his greeting, but the puzzled frown that adorned his brow was as revealing as his wife’s goggle-eyed gaze.
Felicia found herself wondering why her marriage should be a surprise to others: did they think she would never marry? Or had they heard about her rebellious flight from Solone in order to avoid her season in Lycenium and did not know that she had returned home?
It was not long, however, before the Pomponius’ gave her a surprise of their own.
“I am so happy to see you again, Felicia,” Livia said, her voice oozing a fond affection that Felicia found herself basking in. “Tell me, are your parents well? Do they continue to make their home in Lycenium? We missed them so when they left Valerium.”
A shadow flitted across Livia’s face, and Felicia wondered if it was due to missing Tullia, or if the general atmosphere of suppression in Potentus worried her mother’s old friend. Her own response would bring enlightenment and the alarming discovery of how life in Valerium had changed since last she saw it.
“They are very well, and they do live in Lycenium still. I believe that they miss Valerium, but do not mention it. I wonder, though, how our old friends the Lucius’ fare? They are like parents to my father, you know, and like grandparents to Lucius and me.”
Vibianus and Livia exchanged a look, one that communicated something that made Felicia’s pulse suddenly race. Livia raised an eyebrow and Vibianus nodded almost imperceptibly. Livia then leaned close to Felicia and lowered her voice.
“Felicia dear,” she murmured, “please be very careful how you respond to what I am about to tell you. I do not wish to alarm you, but there are eyes here tonight watching you, knowing you are the daughter of Alexandrians, wondering if you are one yourself. Do you understand that? If you do, pat my hand.”
Felicia gave the hand placed next to her a light tap. She was rewarded with a slight tap back on her own hand, and then Livia continued.
“I have bad news I’m afraid, regarding your old friend. He was summoned to the Palace last week and sentenced to imprisonment. It appears he was caught trying to help a prisoner, a man from Eirinia who is an Alexandrian. Justus tried to hide that fact from the Emperor but the man blurted it out. And Iacomus is furious that Justus attempted to shield him.”
After all of the guests had departed, Felicia requested a private interview with her father-in-law. Antonius laughed slightly and seemed surprised, but Felicia told him that as Antonius had a birthday coming soon she wished to consult his father for ideas on the perfect gift. Paulina joined in her son’s amusement, and the two of them bade Felicia and Decimus good-night and retired to their chambers.
Decimus led Felicia into the library and beckoned for her to be seated. He appeared to have believed her pretext and beamed an approving grin at this evidence of the love she bore her husband. He was no sooner seated, however, than she plunged into the true reason for this interview.
“Father,” she began, giving him the title due him upon her marriage to his son, “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Why, certainly Felicia. You have only to tell me what you desire. What is it?”
She stared at the man before her, studying his cat-like green eyes, his crop of black hair only sparsely streaked with silver strands, and his powerful physique. Decimus moved with the grace and stealth of a jungle cat, and at this moment he made her think of a black panther, a leopard with no spots, as they were sometimes called. She did not know why this resemblance struck her, but decided it suited him. After all, leopards were known for being loners, unlike the other big cats, and there were few that this man allowed into his heart. In fact, the only one she knew of for certain was his son.
She collected every ounce of courage she could muster and pursued her course.
“I heard through gossip at the banquet that a friend of my parents has been imprisoned. He is very dear to all of us, and I am alarmed to hear such evil tidings.”
Decimus became wary of a sudden, and she sensed that she needed to tread carefully.
“And who might that be?” was all that Decimus asked her.
“His name is Justus Lucius,” she replied. “He is a very old friend of the family, both he and his wife. They have known my father nearly all of his life. It would grieve all of us should any harm come to him.”
Decimus heard her request in silence, but a frown puckered his brow and he seemed lost in thought.
“Lucius,” he repeated. “Justus Lucius. That name seems familiar to me for some reason. But I am a stranger to Valerium myself, having lived most of my life in Lycenium, and I am puzzled why that name seems to ring a bell.”
He continued to frown in perplexity, and Felicia took one last breath before praying silently.
Help me be brave, Dominio. Help me be brave.
“Perhaps the name rings a bell because you killed his son, Felix, for whom I am named.”
Down in the depths of the Imperial dungeon, Justus listened to the sound of the rain falling outside. Beating against the stone walls it produced a pleasing sound, one that was almost comforting and cozy on this dreary evening. At least the rain brought a reminder of life outside these prison walls, and he would gladly take that over the silence that prevailed here otherwise.
So absorbed was he in the sound of the rain that he failed to detect the sound of approaching footsteps. He was therefore surprised when a man appeared at the door of his prison and opened it. But the greater surprise came when Justus recognized the man: a man whose face he would never forget.
Decimus Hadrianus stood before him. Of course, he knew he was the Imperial Minister, but only the Palace Guards had any interaction with prisoners. What brought his son’s murderer
to his jail this night?
Decimus did not speak to Justus. He glanced briefly at him, but quickly dropped his eyes and looked away. He came to him and unlocked the manacles about the older man’s wrists.
Justus stood gaping at him, his mouth hanging open in utter shock. Surely he must be dreaming, he thought. Had the Emperor released him? Or had he sent his Minister of State to pronounce the sentence of death upon him, knowing how painful it would sound on the lips of the man who had killed his son? Would Iacomus be so evil as to do such a thing to spite one who had defied him?
At last Decimus spoke, but not the words that Justus expected to hear.
“You will follow me. Do not say a word, or we shall be betrayed. There is a boat waiting for you, with your wife onboard, which will take you to Lycenium.”
Decimus opened the door wide to let Justus through. Then he turned to him once more.
“Remember: you did not see me, you did not speak to me. And if you do not go to Lycenium at once, you will be a dead man.”
Chapter XXXII
A Stunning Transformation
Maelys was stunned at the transformation in Eirinia in just two months time. The brown hills and muddy streams surrounding Leith was in vivid contrast to the rest of the country through which she had just passed.
She and Kyrene and Lucius had disembarked along the eastern coast and walked the rest of the way. The southern coast would have made a shorter voyage for them, but a longer trek over land, and she did not want to camp out in the forests as she had done on her outward journey. Nor did she wish to alarm her companions by the eerie presence that was making itself felt in the countryside. Yet, she had a feeling that Kyrene already knew, and was not afraid of it.
The coast had presented its usual dreamy face to those who stood on board and gasped at its beauty. And the trek through the woods and hills of the day just past had been every bit as lovely. Kyrene had breathed deeply of the scent of grass and wild herbs, the sage and thyme that still grew in the mild autumn climate.
She had always loved the beauty of this land, she had told Maelys, but it had been many years since she saw it and had forgotten how enchanting it was to behold for the first time.
Maelys had thought this statement somewhat absurd, so used was she to the scenery of her native land. But when she saw the territory surrounding Leith she understood what Kyrene meant.
All of her life she had never seen anything other than endless green; green hills that glowed like emeralds, trees that shimmered a pale peridot in the spring and were clad in the vibrant robes of forest green in the summer. The orchards were swathed with bright green apples that dangled from the low-lying branches of their trees like a temptation lying in wait for its unsuspecting victim. Even on her visits to Annick on the coast, she beheld the sea in varying shades of sea green, aquamarine, and jade.
But now all of Leith was coated in a drab and muddy brown that gave the appearance of the earth having vomited its very insides, leaving them bare for all to see.
What had happened, she wondered. Was there a drought? Even after the autumn leaves fell the land always retained the green of its grass and the clarity of the streams that spilled over the rocks, singing as it ran. This land was barren and gloomy: and the streams were silent.
She led her companions to her home, and was greeted with varying degrees of salutation. Her mother embraced her so tightly that she could not breathe, weeping tears of relief as she did so. Dirk clapped a hand on her back in welcome, and Brand forgot his emerging manhood and jumped up and down in excitement.
Nolwenn was missing.
Maelys asked after her, but Dirk shook his head and inclined his head outdoors. She did not press her question, but waited for a chance to speak to her brother. Judoc intercepted this exchange in a return of her usual bustling manner.
“Kyrene! How long has it been since we saw one another? How goes it with you?”
This greeting was accompanied by a fierce hug that was just as warmly returned by Kyrene. She had always liked Judoc, and had rejoiced on Dag’s behalf at their wedding. But she remembered the grief of the last months with tender affection.
“And it is good to see you again, Judoc. But I fear the year has been a hard one for you,” she said softly.
Her compassion brought tears to the eyes of Judoc, who swiftly wiped them away. But Kyrene would not permit her to hide her grief, feeling it better to let out the pain.
“Dominio soothe and comfort you, and lighten your heart with happy remembrances,” she murmured in a singsong voice as she kissed Judoc’s brow. “May your grief dissolve as the dew on the morning grass, and only the memory of joy remain and stay green, just as the grass is nourished by the kiss of the dew, and brings forth the life of the blade.”
Judoc bowed her head and closed her eyes. A smile touched her lips faintly, and then she raised her hands over her head. She bowed her head again and was silent.
Lucius felt that he had just witnessed a sacred moment and looked away in embarrassment. What Judoc had suffered during the past six months had been told to him in full by her daughter. Although he was far from devout, he too bowed his head and silently prayed that Judoc would find peace.
It was when Maelys shared the news of Dag’s imprisonment that they came together for the first time since Brenus died. She broke the tidings as gently as she could, and Kyrene was ready with an arm for Judoc to hold on to. She was at least able to reassure them that the daughter of Marcus Maximus was on her way to Valerium with her husband, who was the son of the new Minister of State, and therefore might be in a position that would empower him to sue for the release of Dag.
Even Nolwenn came to her mother and her sister with outstretched arms and clung to both of them in a circle of three, as they locked arms for strength. Maelys suddenly remembered this little ritual that Judoc had taught the girls when they were younger.
They were outnumbered in a household of brawny and boisterous men, Judoc had said. Therefore they must look to each other to strengthen each other. If they stood together and locked arms, nothing could tear them apart. Today was the first time they had enacted this ritual since before the coming of Melisande.
They walked together through the wood that surrounded the village. He looked for remaining signs of green, having caught some of Maelys’ concern over the browning of the village. Why this alarmed her he was not quite certain, accustomed as he was to the brown of November that covered Valerium until the first snowfall, but he wished to comfort her and so did whatever she asked.
“Do you not see?” she pleaded for understanding. “Brown is a sign of a curse; it has always been so with our people. Green is a symbol of life, of things growing, but brown is the color of death, of hearts abandoning hope.
“We must find out why this is so, what made everything turn brown when our land always retains its green in the autumn and winter,” she told him. “And then we can pray and ask Dominio what can be done to break the curse.”
She gazed at Lucius so intently that he felt she was baring his soul, a sensation he was not entirely comfortable with. He nodded his head to agree with her, and he was rewarded with the brilliance of her smile, bestowed in approval.
He did not know what the outcome of this Eirini adventure would hold for him. But he did know this: he would not leave until he was assured that Maelys was safe from the menace that stalked her family.
Chapter XXXIII
Torn In Two
Kyrene was also aware of the changes in Leith, and was appalled at the transformation of the village that had so enchanted her when she visited it more than twenty years ago. The land that had once glowed with the soft luster of an emerald now appeared as drab as the forests when November strips the trees of their brilliant foliage, leaving only a barren waste until the return of spring. The grass was reduced to withered blades that bore the appearance of a wasteland that has never seen a drop of rain to water and nurture it, bringing forth the green of life.
And the undercurrents among the Adalbart family and the other villagers hummed with tension like a cord stretched so tightly it is in danger of snapping at a given moment. When she and Maelys left the hut for a morning walk, the other ladies assembled here and there on the green or gathered at the stream to wash clothes averted their gaze and whispered among them. Kyrene remembered Maelys’ account of their defiance at the Spring and Summer Festivals and feared that their rebellion had gone deeper than the Adalbarts knew, much deeper than what was seen on the surface…
It was Niamh who disturbed her more than anyone. There had always been something secretive about her, even in the days when Dag and Marcus had come to this land and cleansed it of the Tuadan and established a colony of believers. Kyrene found herself wondering if Niamh had harbored a secret resentment all of these years against the Alexandrians for tearing down the high places and outlawing the worship of the Tuadan.
She asked Maelys about her and was informed that it was Niamh’s sister Enora who had been enraged at the actions of the Alexandrians, and had refused to speak to her sister, whom she felt had turned against the Tuadan, for more than twenty years. It was only lately that they had been reconciled.
“And then Niamh wanted to have the goddesses worshiped again, is that right?” Kyrene asked the girl.
Maelys did not reply immediately, but pondered Kyrene’s question.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “I see what you mean now; there is a connection, you think between their reconciliation and Niamh taking the actions that she did?”
“Yes, I most certainly do!” Kyrene exclaimed. “It was too sudden to have been otherwise. If Niamh was silent all those years and only insisted on giving thanks to the old gods after her sister reconciled with her, you can be certain that Enora is behind her actions.”