Empress Aurora Trilogy Quest For the Kingdom Parts I, II, and III Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set)

by L. M. Roth

  Over a sumptuous meal that consisted of a variety of meats, fruits, breads, and sweetmeats, Marcus felt himself begin to unwind and relax for the first time in many months. It amused him to watch Cort attempt to decide on the choice between rich roast veal, creamed oysters, herb encrusted sole, or duck marinated in wine, to be accompanied by peaches stewed in aromatic spices, sugar-coated grapes, mushrooms sautéed in butter, peas cooked in mint, or to partake of plump white rolls, cheese filled bread, or rounds of dark bread coated with honey.

  For Dag the choice presented no difficulty, Marcus noted. He chose the simplest fare of veal, mushrooms, peas, and his face broke into smiles as he bit into several rounds of the honey coated dark bread.

  Marcus himself ate with no thought to what was before him. His anxiety was returning at the thought of facing Aurora and telling her that the Pearl she sought did not exist. He felt his stomach begin to knot, his hands to sweat, and the succulent feast before him was as tasteless as sawdust in his mouth.

  He did not begrudge the others their pleasure at table, however. It was their first decent meal since leaving Gaudereaux, some six weeks before. Since then they had subsisted on shipboard fare consisting of fish, potatoes, and apples. After the shipwreck they were reduced to salted fish and berries. No, he did not begrudge his friends their pleasure at all, he reflected.

  After all had eaten their fill they retired to a smaller room adjoining the dining hall. In this room, Marcus knew, the family spent the long autumn and winter evenings in quiet companionship. Although it was only September, there was a chill already in the evening air that made this room more inviting than the garden on a summer evening.

  The fires were already lit in the charcoal braziers, sending their warming glow out in welcome to all those who entered. The upholstered couches of turquoise brocade enhanced the aqua tiles in the sea themed fresco that adorned the white walls. The sea theme was further carried out in the scattering of sea shells of creamy blue and mauve on little black marble tables. On a stack of wall shelves containing odd curios stood a seahorse carved out of pale lavender alabaster. The draperies festooning the walls were of gauze of the same pale lavender, producing the effect of a curtain veiling mysteries.

  This room always instilled a sense of peace in Marcus as the soothing blues and lavenders calmed his spirit. Tonight he attempted to recapture the effect, but his nerves were too jangled by what he must still face.

  Silvia sensed his preoccupation, but wisely did not pry. She concentrated her efforts on making the newcomers feel welcome. It was soon clear that she already felt a warm affection for Kyrene, sensing in the girl a maternal heart that shared an affinity with her own. She noted the teasing banter between the girl and her son, but made no comment. Cort amused her with his unabashed curiosity regarding his new surroundings, and she and Justus both chuckled frequently at his droll remarks.

  Silvia looked on Dag warily, unused to such a rugged man of great size, her male acquaintances being limited to urbane Valerian patricians who dressed elegantly and spoke eloquently. But after careful observation of the Trekur Lender she deemed him a man of great heart and humor.

  Elena puzzled Silvia. She observed that the girl maintained a meek demeanor, yet there were flashes of fire from her dark eyes on occasion that belied her outward mien. Felix had apprised her of the history of his companions earlier in the day when he had shared a quiet hour alone with his parents. Silvia’s tender heart ached for the tragedy and suffering the young girl had endured, but what of her character? Was it as sweet as her honeyed voice like a dove’s, or as stormy as her flashing raven’s eyes?

  Silvia kept her thoughts to herself but wondered at the exact nature of the relationships between the two foreign girls and her son. She would observe them intently, she decided.

  One by one they retired to their rooms for a night’s sleep, until at last Marcus and Felix remained with Justus and Silvia. Justus stirred the charcoals in the brazier, which had died down to glowing embers. The blaze leaped up and he warmed his hands over one of them. The others turned gratefully toward them to toast their faces and sandaled toes.

  “Well,” Justus ventured. “You young men have been gone long on your secret mission; eight months away, and not a word of explanation. Nay,” he raised his hand as Felix opened his mouth to speak, “do not explain, for I would not have you break your vows. It is men’s business, for men you have become.”

  Felix sighed in relief at his father’s words, and sank back on the cushioned couch. Marcus felt awkward at accepting the hospitality of his friend’s father without giving an account of their mission. It humbled him that a man could be so good as Justus, and offer him shelter when he knew that Marcus’ own family was in disgrace with the Empress. He silently thanked Dominio for the gift of good and faithful friends.

  “We could not speak of it before your friends, Marcus,” Silvia interjected, “but we want to assure you that your parents still live, although they remain in their prison.”

  “Yes,” Justus added. “Our slave girl Oliva has a friend in the Palace, and although it would not be our usual custom to engage a slave in conversation, she has assured us that the talk at the Palace is that they are alive.”

  “That is good news, for which I am grateful,” Marcus breathed, as some of the tension left his body. “For my greatest fear is that they died in prison while I tarried on my journey.”

  “Have no fear of that, young man,” Justus assured him.

  “No, have no fear, Marcus,” Silvia concurred.

  Then a frown disturbed her brow. She appeared to hesitate; then made a decision to speak.

  “If there is any real cause for alarm, it is not because of your parents, imprisoned though they are.”

  She paused. Marcus turned an inquiring eye in her direction. Silvia pursed her lips, and seemed to struggle within herself, then proceeded.

  “You see, Marcus, well, actually…I am concerned about Tullia.”

  “Tullia!”

  Marcus and Felix exclaimed together. They frowned at one another, then turned back to Silvia.

  “Yes, Tullia,” Silvia said. “Have you any news of her?”

  Marcus chuckled bitterly.

  “We saw her three months ago in Lycenium, but apart from a tidbit of gossip one month later in Gaudereaux we have heard nothing since.”

  “Well, I have heard news and it is most disturbing,” Silvia continued.

  Marcus and Felix shared a look of alarm before inquiring of Silvia what she meant.

  “I have heard, on very good authority,” she said, “that Tullia is all but betrothed to Decimus Hadrianus, the son of old Gerontius. And that news is alarming, to state it mildly.”

  “Mother, why do you say that?” Felix inquired. “Surely Tullia is free to engage her heart where she chooses.”

  Silvia sighed and looked at the floor. She shook her head slightly before she answered.

  “True, my son,” she agreed in a tone of wistful longing. “But how I hoped she would consent to wed you, Felix. I thought for a while that her affections were engaged there. Then I saw how she appeared to favor Marcus. And even that still would have pleased me. But to wed Decimus Hadrianus!” she raised her voice slightly as though genuinely distressed.

  Marcus did not dare risk a glance at Felix as Silvia noted the pattern of Tullia’s changing affections. He saw no wisdom in reopening wounds that had begun to heal. Yet he was concerned by Silvia’s apparent distress.

  “Why, madam, what is wrong with Decimus Hadrianus? Surely his father is one of the most powerful men in the Empire, a fact that cannot fail to please Tullia or her parents,” he commented wryly.

  “But Marcus, it is his character that I fear!” Silvia cried as she threw her hands up in the air.

  So disturbed was she that she rose from her couch and began to pace the floor, her hands clutching the folds of her stola as if for warmth.

  Felix and Marcus now riveted their full attention on Silvia. Neither stir
red a muscle, and Marcus felt his mouth go dry in apprehension.

  At last Silvia ceased her pacing and came to an abrupt stop in front of the two young men.

  “Decimus Hadrianus,” she announced in a tone of the utmost solemnity, “is one of the wealthiest, handsomest, and bravest young men in all the Valeriun Empire. He has never known a need that was unmet, a whim that went unsatisfied, or a desire that failed to be fulfilled. He is also one of the cruelest, most dissolute, and, yes, I must say it, evil young men in all the world.”

  Marcus gasped at this statement and Felix rose to his feet as though jerked by invisible strings. They hung on Silvia’s words.

  “Decimus is without honor, scruples, or any moral sense that is common to man, whether it be the highest lord or the lowest slave. He lacks essential decency and cannot possibly make a woman happy, although he is clever at hiding his true nature. Only on closer acquaintance does one see that the easy smile masks a mocking cruelty; his gallant charm is but a guise to seduce an innocent maiden, or take her by force if she is unwilling. Yes, I have heard that as well. And only on knowing him intimately does one see that his bravery and quickness to offer a challenge is but an excuse to inflict injury and even death for the mere sport of it. How he glories in the blood of others!”

  And Silvia buried her face in her hands and shuddered.

  “But, Mother, I don’t understand,” Felix questioned in a voice that shook with alarm. “How do you know all of this? For his name meant nothing to me or to Marcus when we heard of it in Gaudereaux, as we know nothing of the leading citizens of Lycenium.”

  “My sister Claudia and her husband Sergius have long been acquainted with the Hadrianus family,” Silvia explained. “I spent a month with them at their estate in Lycenium in July and Claudia told me of this at that time. It was the talk of the city, the possible betrothal of the Governor’s wild and debauched son to a young lady of such beauty and refinement.”

  “Then surely someone will be sure to warn Tullia,” Marcus said with more hope than he felt. “Or perhaps she will see the true nature of Decimus before plighting her troth.”

  Silvia sighed and smiled wanly at Marcus.

  “One can only hope so, Marcus,” she half moaned. “But Decimus is so skilled at hiding his true nature from the world that I fear Tullia will only discover his wickedness once it is too late.”

  Chapter XXXIV

  Encounter With Valerius

  He had been granted an interview with his father before reporting to the Empress. Now as Marcus stood once again before that massive door of heavy oak, he paused to reflect on all that had occurred since last he saw Valerius.

  In the eight months since he left Valerium he had met loyal friends in Dag, Cort, and Kyrene, been rejected by Tullia, and discovered his betrayal at the hands of Felix, his dearest and most trusted companion. He had luxuriated in wealth unimaginable in Koohyaram, and lived in the bleakest conditions on the mysterious island. He had trekked across the frozen forests of the Land of the Long Spears, and toiled in the blazing waste of the Desert of Dubar. He had enjoyed pleasure and frivolity in Gaudereaux, and endured persecution and exile in Trekur Lende. He had met sultans and slave girls, wise men and fools.

  But the greatest experience of them all was the secret of the Pearl. How naively he had set out, he now saw, believing that such a jewel actually existed. And all he had to do to fulfill his task was to find it, buy it, and bring it back to the Empress with his quest completed. If only it had been as simple as it seemed…

  For he saw now as he reflected on the occurrences of the past months that although the Pearl did not physically exist, it was truly a gem of great and terrible beauty. For in the months since Marcus had given his heart to Alexandros and pledged himself to advance the Kingdom of Heaven, he had known great joy in the fellowship of those of a kindred spirit. He had tasted of the wonders of the gifts Dominio gave to His children, in order to equip them for life in this world.

  Yet he had also had to let go of his manly pride that demanded a man’s vengeance at the knowledge of Felix’s betrayal. Only death would have satisfied his pride for the loss of his father’s position and estate, and the imprisonment of his parents and their suffering at the hands of the Empress. And his losses had cost him the love of Tullia. For had she not confessed that without a home to offer her, she could not consent to marry him? And most ironic of all, he who had dreamed of being a soldier was given the fabulous Sword Logos, but could never use it in violence.

  Yet he was not alone in the price of possessing such a precious Pearl. For Dag it meant the rejection of his people and the desertion of Fanchon. And he had to forgive Cort for hiding his true identity and spare his life although required to take that life by the vow of his tribe. For to kill Cort was forbidden by the laws of the Kingdom of Heaven, so Dag had to reject the man he was so he could become the man he was meant to be.

  And Felix? For Felix the Pearl meant the confession of his betrayal; the perfidious act of treachery, all in the hope to win the love of a woman. Yet he must confess his sin in order to be free of it, so all of his hidden jealousy of Marcus was laid bare. Marcus still shuddered at the memory of the confession of those secret feelings.

  Yes, he reflected, anyone could own the Pearl, but it cost all one had and all one was…

  He entered his father’s prison room. Surely, he looked thinner and paler than when Marcus last saw him? And his glossy black curls now boasted more white strands than dark. Marcus choked back the cry that threatened to erupt from his lips. How he longed to cradle his father in his arms as he once used to cradle him.

  Valerius straightened from his bed at the sound of his son’s footsteps.

  “My son!” he exclaimed, his face illuminated by his joy.

  For a long moment they embraced, forgoing the usual hand clap on the shoulder. Truly, the rigors of prison and separation from his beloved family had softened Valerius, Marcus pondered. His father’s customary aloof detachment was now forgotten in a new demonstrative tenderness.

  “Come,” Valerius patted the bed, “come and sit with me and tell me of your journey. Did you fulfill the quest? Was your mission a success?”

  Marcus promptly sat by his father’s side, yet hesitated before speaking. To a man as stern and practical as Valerius, how would the truth about the Pearl be received?

  Marcus cleared his throat and whetted his lips. The familiar dryness of mouth afflicted him, causing his voice to die in his throat. He shook his head in a firm determination to recite his tale and be done with it.

  “Success? Well, Father, in a manner of speaking, yes and no. I must tell you that the Pearl of Great Price which I was sent to find for the Empress does not exist; and therefore, the possessing of it on which we had set all our hopes for obtaining your freedom cannot be accomplished. In that sense, my mission was a dismal failure,” Marcus moaned as he shook his head slowly.

  Valerius had been gazing intently at his son’s face, never blinking an eye or moving a muscle. With this last statement uttered by Marcus, he slumped his shoulders and a long drawn out sigh was wrung from his lips. A small cry of disappointment escaped his throat before he quickly stifled it.

  Valerius, ever the great soldier, regained his composure and straightened his shoulders. He looked Marcus firmly in the eye and nodded his head briefly.

  “And the reason it was a success? What is that, my son?” he asked in a voice that was strong and betrayed none of the heartbreak he felt for hope raised and dashed.

  “Well, Father,” Marcus said unsteadily as his courage suddenly failed him. “I hardly know how to begin,” he stammered.

  “Try the beginning, Marcus. It has always been of help to me,” Valerius advised, with a return of his wry wit.

  “Yes, sir,” Marcus replied, as he stared at the floor.

  And at the floor he kept his eyes riveted as he related to his father the adventure he experienced on his quest; the fabulous realms he had visited, the colorful people
he met, and the new friends he made along the way.

  “And my friends are here with me in Valerium,” Marcus said. “I do hope you have an opportunity to meet them, for they have become dear to me indeed.”

  Valerius stared with the unblinking gaze of an eagle at his son and nodded his head distractedly. He gave Marcus the look he used when he was a small boy and attempted to hide something from his father. But Valerius had not been fooled then, nor was he fooled now.

  At last he put the question to Marcus.

  “What are you holding back? What is it that you fear to tell me, my son?”

  Fearing if he hesitated any longer he would lose his courage, Marcus plunged in, heedless of his words.

  “There is a Pearl, but not the one the Empress seeks, and for which she sent me to find,” Marcus blurted out.

  He felt beads of sweat trickle from his brow, down his face, and tickle his upper lip. It tasted salty, the taste did not agree with him. He wiped his hands, now clammy with sweat, on his robe. The gesture did not alleviate anything; his hands were still wet.

  Valerius stared at him with a slightly furrowed brow.

  “Well, if there is a Pearl, why did you not bring it back for the Empress? May I remind you that my freedom and that of your mother depend upon the success of your quest? Why did you not bring it with you?” he demanded, uttered in the manner of the General he once was.

  “Because,” Marcus stammered, “it is not a pearl. The Pearl of Great Price is only a name for something much greater than a mere jewel.”

  Valerius peered at his son through eyes narrowed into slits. Marcus was aware that his father was losing patience with him. He dreaded incurring his father’s wrath. The fury of Valerius was legendary on the battlefield. To the men under his command it was implacable, and they feared it more than any foe.