Chronicles of Logos Quest For the Kingdom Parts IV, V, VI, and VII Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set) (20 page)

It began
slowly, so slowly that Dag did not even perceive it at first. Was it at the
council meeting that he first noticed an alarming change in attitude? And how
long had it been hidden from him?

More than
twenty years ago he had come here on his quest with Marcus Maximus, and in one
day the entire village had pledged themselves to serve Alexandros. He had
remained to marry Judoc and to teach them the ways of Dominio; he was soon
accepted as one of them. He had raised their children as Alexandrians but
adapted himself to the local customs, even permitting Judoc to name their
daughters with Eirini names. He had preserved his own heritage by giving their
sons the names of Trekur Lende.

It was not
until the return of Cort that he sensed something amiss. It was not Cort
himself that triggered the response, for he had always been one of the favorite
young men of the village; a boon companion of the young men, sighed over by the
young women, sought out for play by the children, and respected by his elders.
His wife and mother quickly made friends in the village and were soon accepted
as part of the local population. No, the return of Cort was not the cause…

It was Melisande
who made him uneasy. There was something about Brenus’ wife that gave him the
same sense of disquiet as in the days when he hunted in Trekur Lende and knew
instinctively when he was being stalked by an unknown predator: the hunter in
an instant becoming the prey. It was that sense of alarm that she invariably
set off in him.

It had been
unsettling enough when Brenus had married a young woman who had appeared in
their midst and refused to give an account of her family or homeland. Such was
not done among decent people, Judoc had informed him. He would not have known
better, as in Trekur Lende strangers were welcome to enter any home to escape
the harsh climate. No questions were asked of them, and they simply took their
respite and moved on. But such was not the way among civilized people,
according to his wife.

But to see the
way that Melisande had unmanned Brenus made Dag clamp his mouth shut on angry
words many times when in their presence. What ailed the lad? He had always been
of a fiery temperament and refused to have anyone take an advantage of him or
treat him rudely. Dag would never forget his meeting with Cort and how quickly
war was declared on him after accidentally pushing him. It had been Kyrene who
prevented open battle from erupting and hostilities breaking out.

And in all the
days of his childhood and adolescence it had been the same: Brenus’ temper
became legendary in Leith. Yet since his marriage, Dag had noted how often
Melisande over-ruled him, and even cowed him. All it took was a flash from her
eyes if Brenus denied her anything, or contradicted a statement she made that
turned out to be inaccurate. Such as the time when she had, in an effort to
conciliate her mother-in-law, misinterpreted the meaning of her name.

“Ah, Judoc: it
suits you, for it means ‘to judge’ and there are few wiser than you, I’ll
warrant!” Melisande raptured as she flashed an ingratiating smile at Judoc.

Judoc
overlooked the mistake and kept silent, but Brenus could never prevent himself
from rushing into a melee.

“It does not,”
he laughed, with an indulgent glance at his wife. “It means ‘joyful’ and I
believe that it is a perfect name for Mother. She has always been like a
hummingbird, singing happily as she bustles about the house going from one task
to the next.”

Melisande
tightened her lips as she glared at Brenus with a grimace that made Dag shudder
and the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. How like a demon she suddenly
looked…

“Well, I was
always told that it means ‘to judge’ and I can not believe that I have been
misinformed all of my life! Perhaps you may want to reconsider your words,
husband, for I am sure you are wrong.”

She uttered
these words through tightly clenched lips in a voice that was low and as
threatening as a thunderstorm about to break. Brenus actually paled and
hastened to take back his words.

“Of course, of
course, my love! I must not have heard correctly. I do apologize for my
mistake.”

Melisande
permitted him to put an arm about her, but her smile of soothed vanity did not
reach her eyes, and Dag suddenly remembered another like it that he had seen in
the days of his youth. But that was utterly impossible: he dismissed it as a
figment of his imagination.

But could she
be an agent of the Astra, sent to Eirinia to undermine his work among the
Eirini? He knew such a thing was possible, and she did not show any fervor or
even devotion to Dominio that he had ever been able to detect. That she had
duped Brenus in that regard was clear to him, and to Judoc, who had not
hesitated to speak her mind to her husband on that matter.

“Bewitched
him, she has: he’ll believe anything she tells him. She does not worship
Dominio anymore than a dog does. She came here with no good intended, and what
will come of this marriage I tremble to think. For my boy’s sake I hope it will
be happy; but it would seem that the price of his happiness is to do as he’s
told.”

And Judoc
sadly shook her head as she contemplated the future of her eldest son. Dag
commiserated with her, for he had always been fond of the lad. Although he
could never mean to him what Cort did, coming as he did from his native land,
and having shared in so many adventures together. Not even his own sons born of
his flesh could take Cort’s place in his heart, stolen by him out of pity for a
runaway who had never known the love of his own father.

He had been
heartsick when Cort left so abruptly after the rift with Brenus. Any cause of
conflict between them would have been hard enough, but Melisande simply was not
worth it in Dag’s eyes. That she lied about Cort and his advances to her was
obvious as far as he and Judoc were concerned.

More than
likely it was she who threw herself at Cort, Dag fumed to himself. He had
always been chased by the village girls, being tall, lean, and blond, with blue
eyes sparkling with mischief and fun. No doubt Melisande nurtured a secret
desire for her brother-in-law and he had rejected her and she took her revenge
by falsely accusing him. That it may also have been precipitated by the
unexpected arrival of her husband on the scene was not a factor that escaped
Dag’s notice either.

He had spent
the winter longing for Cort and worrying for his safety. Where would he have
gone, he wondered? Did he set out for parts unknown, or perhaps visit his old
friends Marcus and Kyrene? He received no message from him advising him of his
safety or informing him of his whereabouts, and it had been a long winter for
Dag indeed.

When Cort
returned to Leith with his betrothed and his mother, it was a day for
rejoicing. Even Brenus had been delighted, although he would not confess to
anyone that it was possible Melisande had lied about his brother. Dag had not
been present when the two met for the first time since Cort’s return, but it
was evident when he saw them together that they would at least be civil to one
another, although without the complete harmony of spirit they had always
shared.

Dag had been
delighted by the arrival of Brit and her reunion with her son. He had been a
little apprehensive about Judoc’s reaction, and whether she would find Brit a
threat to her relationship with Cort. But the two women became friends even
before Brit had been in Leith for a full day, and Dag was relieved to see it.

He already had
friction in the family from one son’s marriage: he did not need to see any
further discord as the result of another.

It was Laig’s
remark that gave him the first quiver of alarm.

They had met
to plan the spring festival. It was traditionally a time of rejoicing at the
return of the longer days and fine weather. The village children especially
enjoyed it, and played games far into the hour of twilight following the
sunset, and had to be dragged away by their weary parents off to their beds.

“I was
wondering what we shall do to celebrate the Return. Niamh has been questioning
me if we shall revive it as we did in the old days.”

Laig said this
with a casual air, yet the look he shed on Dag was searching and made him
distinctly uncomfortable. Dag had never felt as at ease with Laig as he had
with Cadeyrn. But Cadeyrn had died of a fever some five years before. There
were times when Dag missed him dearly, and felt the loss of his sensible
counsel.

“The Return?”
he queried. “What is that? We have not spoken of this before.”

Dag was
genuinely puzzled, and looked around the room at the others for enlightenment.
He was met with lowered eyes as every man there suddenly appeared fascinated
with the dirt floor of the council building. It seemed to Dag that he could
hear the breathing of everyone present in the tense stillness that followed his
question. He waited, and saw a few men dart glances out of the corner of their
eyes at their neighbors.

Finally, Laig
answered the question.

“The Return
has always been held sacred by our people. It is a cause for rejoicing, as we
thank Eoghan for the end of winter and the return of spring.”

“Eoghan!” Dag
exclaimed in horror. “But this village serves Dominio: it has served Dominio
for more than twenty years. We pledged ourselves to Alexandros, and the high
places of the Tuadan were thrown down and are no more. Worship of other deities
ceased as well.”

He trembled as
a sudden dread clutched his heart: why did they want to thank their false
deities for anything? That idolatry had been smashed long ago…

“Why can we
not serve both?” Laig asked him. “In other places of the world they serve many
gods and think nothing of it. Why not in Leith? We serve Dominio, yet we thank Eoghan
for blessings too.”

His eyes met
Dag’s and they locked in a duel of stares.

Never, Dag
thought, did he think he would live to see such a moment. Their commitment to
Dominio had been total. What had happened to turn their hearts away to their
former gods?

“No thanks
will be given to Eoghan,” Dag stated through clenched teeth.

The room was
silent. No one lifted their eyes from the floor. Only Laig stared boldly at Dag
and held his ground.

“I do not see
the harm,” he murmured. “We would still serve Dominio. We would just give
thanks to Eoghan. No harm in that is there?”

The time had
come. The village people were all gathered at the Common and preparing to
celebrate. The children scampered about in their excitement, eager to play
their games outdoors once more now that winter was gone and the rains of spring
had stopped their downpours. Their shrill laughter punctuated their frolic as
they ran races and skipped about in glee. Here and there the village lads
teased some of the young maidens, creeping up behind and pulling on braids, or
jumping out in front of them to savor their startled screams.

Dag walked
about with a slight frown furrowing his brow as he observed the preparations.
He had shared with Judoc the comments of Laig at the council meeting, and she
agreed that there was valid cause for concern. What she told him deepened his
alarm…

In the old
days, she told him, the days before Dag and Marcus Maximus had introduced the
Eirini to Alexandros, Laig’s wife Niamh had been one of the most ardent
followers of the Tuadan. It was she who instructed the young women of the
village in the secret rituals that were revealed only to the chosen circle.
Even Judoc did not know what those rituals were, as she had never been
initiated into the chosen circle.

The chosen
circle, she explained to her husband, were those women who were the most devout
followers of the goddesses. There were three in all: Ingheane the Maiden, Ainah
the Mother, and Pandra the Crone. They represented the stages in a woman’s life
and had been revered and worshiped in secret rituals that only the chosen could
participate in. It was said that the three often traveled together and that one
must beware of coming upon three roads that met together for there a sacrifice
must be made. And it was usually a sacrifice of the hapless traveler. If there
was no one to make the sacrifice, then the goddesses would take the life of the
traveler.

Each had their
own festivals that all of the villagers celebrated openly. The Spring Festival
honored Ingheane, and the maidens of the village were presented at the Common
and honored by the young men who offered them flowers in tribute to their
beauty. But there were darker rites celebrated by the chosen ones after the
rest of the village had retired for the night.

Ainah reigned
over the Midsummer Festival when summer was at its height. The mothers of the
village were brought forth and waited upon with a great feast that was prepared
by their daughters and sons in thanks for the many meals their hands had
prepared for their children. At midnight another rite took place, it was
rumored, one known only to those who participated.

Pandra, Judoc
said, was often called evil personified. She was said to have the heart of a
dragon: greedy for life, grasping for power, and groping for the unwary
innocent who crossed her path. Because her maidenhood and motherhood was a
thing of the past, she was bitter and clutched at what life remained to her.
She was the one goddess who did not have a public celebration, for she was altogether
wicked. It was said that those who wished to exert power over another visited
her priestess in secret and paid the token for a spell. The identity of the
priestess was known only to those in the chosen circle: the villagers did not
have knowledge of who she was.

There were two
gods whom the Eirini had worshiped. One was Eoghan, the sun god. He was the
fount of all wisdom and those who wished for enlightenment visited his shrine
and left a gift. This shrine might be under a tree, or it might be at a well.
It varied from village to village. If it was a tree, a ribbon was left to adorn
a branch. If it was a well, a coin was tossed in as payment.

Eoghan was
also praised for bringing the light of the sun following the darkness of
winter. He was thanked at the Spring Festival for the Return, the time when
life returned to the earth and all gave thanks to him for the warmth of the
sun.

Cadel was the
god of war. He was called on before any battle, and this ritual was the only
one made known to all of the Eirini: he demanded a life in exchange for
protection and victory for the rest of the warriors. Lots were drawn and the
victim selected.

But all of the
Eirini feared the most powerful deities of all, the Tuadan. They were said to
be fallen from their former state of glory in punishment for their wickedness.
They had been cast down to earth and haunted the hills and trees, lying in wait
for hapless wayfarers to enter their domain that they might make sport of them.

Nor did they lie
in wait for trespassers, but roamed about after nightfall seeking those unwary
enough to be abroad after the sun went down. There had been many villagers and
strangers passing through who paid no heed to warnings and were never seen
again…

          They
were placated at the annual festival of the Gathering, when a sacrifice was
made to appease them, hoping it would suffice for the next year and the village
be left alone. It was just this ritual that Dag and Marcus and their friends
had witnessed in secret, only to reveal themselves and raise back to life by
the power of Dominio the man who had just been sacrificed. The miracle had
resulted in the entire village giving their hearts and worship to Alexandros
and pledging to serve Domino.

That had been
more than twenty years ago, and Dag never thought he would see the Eirini in
the village of Leith turn back to their idol worship. What had happened to
bring that about?

The maidens
were all assembled on the Common. His own daughter Maelys was standing with
pride among them; Nolwenn was too young to be courted and must wait for another
year. As the maidens chattered excitedly awaiting the return of the young men,
Dag noted that Niamh cast covert glances in his direction, and his
daughter-in-law Melisande did the same.

Why, he asked
himself, would Melisande watch him so closely? She was yet a newcomer to Leith
and not in the confidence of the native women. They treated her with courtesy
and friendliness, but she did not have any special friends among them. Only his
daughter Nolwenn treated her with a certain awe that he thought derived from
her foreign origins. Nolwenn was always intrigued by any novelty, and therefore
Melisande would be of special interest to her.

Maelys
continued to treat Melisande with a guarded wariness. Dag and Judoc had thought
it stemmed from a sense of rivalry, but the rift with Cort and Brenus had
affected Maelys deeply. She loved both of her older brothers, and she resented
Melisande causing trouble between them. Her treatment of her sister-in-law
bordered on rudeness, speaking to her only when necessary and answering her
curtly when forced to acknowledge her presence.

Dag realized
with a start that some activity was afoot on the Common. The young men had
returned and were shyly presenting flowers to the maidens of their choice. The
flowers were received with demure thanks, and then the young people broke forth
in dancing. As the pipes played they clasped hands in a circle and leapt and
spun and laughed in merriment.

And then it
happened: Niamh suddenly walked through the circle of dancers and stood at the
center of the Common. She waited until all eyes were fixed on her, and then she
spoke.

“Praise be to
Dominio for the maidens and young men,” she intoned as she lifted her arms
heavenward.

“And thanks be
to Eoghan for the Return.”

There was a
collective gasp from those assembled. The name of Eoghan had not even been
mentioned among them in many years. Dag turned to shed a glare of rebuke on
Laig, who had disregarded his admonition.

As he turned
to face him, he was met with the triumphant gaze of his daughter-in-law,
Melisande, who openly laughed at him.