Chronicles of Logos Quest For the Kingdom Parts IV, V, VI, and VII Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set) (26 page)

Felicia was
astonished at the change in herself. As the days grew warmer and longer, she
and Antonius met one another in the public gardens that were so renowned in
Lycenium, and talked as only those whose hearts are one can converse.

No one, she
thought, had ever made her feel as loved as Antonius. That he adored her was
evidenced by his soft glances at her, the tenderness of his voice when he spoke
to her, and the sighs that escaped his lips when they were silent. With him she
found complete fulfillment for the first time in her life.

She knew she
was flouting convention by meeting him alone. Her mother would be furious, she
knew, at not taking an attendant with her. Yet she could not bear to let anyone
know of her blossoming romance; if nothing came of it she would be humiliated,
and therefore kept it to herself. Antonius would have preferred to see her
openly in her grandmother’s garden, but she shuddered at the thought of
Drusilla’s being privy to her precious secret. And knowing her grandmother, she
would not be surprised if she and Tullia already had an altogether different
young man in mind for her, one who would be more socially prominent than her
own choice!

That Antonius
was courting her he made clear from the very beginning. He loved her the moment
he saw her, he said. That she loved him also was soon clear to her as well. She
lived for the moments when they could be together, sharing their faith in
Dominio and hopes for the future, even as they strolled through the blooming
gardens together.

Antonius had
been surprised at first by her pleas for secrecy. When she shared her fears of
potential suitors that her mother may have already chosen, however, he agreed
to keep their courtship to himself. For him it was enough at present to meet
her daily, and spend the hours together.

“Felicia,”
Antonius began, one afternoon a few weeks after their first meeting. “I wish to
ask you something.”

She turned her
head to look at him, noting how his dark waves caressed his temples, and for a
moment wished that she could do so also. But it was forbidden for a maiden to
touch a man to whom she was not wed or at least betrothed. Still, she sighed
with longing as she smiled tenderly at her love.

“Yes,
Antonius?” she queried softly. “What is it?”

He cleared his
throat, and a sudden flush reddened his face as he stared at the ground. His
lack of poise only endeared him all the more to Felicia, who regarded it as
proof of his sincerity. How much better to her liking than one who could spout
poetic utterances and might mean none of what he said!

At last
Antonius straightened himself and found the words that he had fumbled for.

“Will you
marry me?” he blurted. “Oh, that was so abrupt, I did not mean to just come out
and say it!”

Felicia
laughed gaily at his discomfiture. Joy beyond bearing filled her heart, and she
felt she would explode with happiness.

“Yes!” she exclaimed.
“I will marry you, Antonius.”

It was his
turn to laugh, relieved that she had not taken offense.

“Oh, my
wonderful Felicia! Any other maiden would have been outraged that I did not
couch my proposal in words of tribute to her beauty or character. But I
do
love you, and find your beauty to be incomparable. From the moment I saw you, I
had eyes for no other; and you took my heart in that same instant.”

Felicia placed
her hands on his temples as she had longed to do, and stroked the wavy dark
hair. She looked up into his face with a smile so softly glowing that Antonius
gasped. She placed a finger gently over his lips and hushed him.

“I am not
offended, Antonius. For I do not believe the flattery of young men, and am of
the opinion that they do not mean half of what they say. Only tell me you love
me, and I will be happy.”

He smiled at
her and placed his forehead against hers as he clasped their fingers together.

“Oh, I do love
you, my love,” he whispered as he closed his eyes gently.

“And I love
you,” she whispered.

They laughed
together and pulled back to look one another in the face.

“But I do
wonder what my mother will say when we announce our betrothal!” Felicia
exclaimed.

“Say? Why,
what can she or anyone say? Except this: how can they deny holy matrimony to a
love so right?”

The days sped
by as a dream from which one is reluctant to wake. In those moments when she
could spare time for sober thought, Felicia had the uneasy feeling that her
mother
would
object to her betrothal to Antonius. He was not a member of
one of the leading families of Lycenium, although she had heard that his
grandfather had been the Governor many years ago. But the family had left
Lycenium for a time, and upon their return they were not granted the same
status as formerly. Why this was she did not know; nor did she care.

If her mother
had her way, she knew, she would marry one of the leading young men of
Lycenium. And as he must also be an Alexandrian, the circle of eligible young
men for her hand was very small indeed. The Hadrianus family was unknown to
her, as she had grown up in Valerium and only rarely visited her grandmother in
Lycenium prior to her return from Solone. But it mattered not to her that the
family would not suit her mother or grandmother! Antonius was the only match in
the world for her.

When she
discussed the matter of their betrothal with Antonius and how best to tell
their families the news, she found herself doubting if that would be the wisest
course to take. Something within her told her that she would never be allowed
to marry Antonius if her parents knew of their engagement…

“Antonius,”
she said to him one day as they strolled in the public garden. “Something is
troubling me.”

She took his
hand in hers, and placed her head on his shoulder as they walked side by side.

“What is it,
dearest?” he inquired in a voice so soothing that it would have melted her
fears, had her mother been anyone but Tullia Maximus.

She sighed and
burrowed her head deeper into the curve of his neck. He dropped a kiss on her
hair and put an arm around her.

“I have a fear
that will not go away,” she sighed.

He took her
hand and turned her to face him.

“Fear of
what?” he asked with concern written in every line of his face. “What is
troubling you?”

“I am afraid
that my mother will not give consent to our marriage. I fear that she has
already chosen for me and the season she wishes me to have is but a formality.

“I fear she
will never let me marry you, Antonius.”

Tears sprang
to her eyes: how strange that she, who never thought to marry, should fear that
the young man of her choice would be denied her!

They were
strolling by the river that ran parallel to the city, and he looked at the
reflection of the trees that grew near its edge. He seemed to meditate, lost in
his thoughts, as he gazed into the water rippling in the soft morning breeze,
as if he would find an answer to her question within its depths. He did not
speak for some time, and Felicia began to worry that he might say something she
would not be able to bear.

“Well,” he
said at last. “You are to honor your mother and father; so if either of them
objects to our betrothal, then we can not wed. It would break my heart, but you
would have to obey.”

“No, Antonius!
I would not let them part us! They have already taken me from my school where I
would have been trained as a prophet: they can not interfere in my personal
happiness as well.”

And she
stamped her foot hard on the ground, as if to emphasize the depth of her
passion. Suddenly, she turned to him and grabbed his hands.

“Please,
Antonius: let us marry right away! We can go to the priest and have him marry
us. Then when my parents return they will find they have not lost a daughter
but gained a son!”

Antonius
raised a hand to object, but she grabbed it and kissed it. She clung to him and
pleaded. They were so right for each other; would it not be wrong for her
mother to part them?

It was not
long before Antonius agreed to her plan. After all, he said, he and his parents
were frequent guests at the Maximus home. Was it really possible that in view
of his friendship with their son, they would object to his marriage to their
daughter?

The June night
was warm and punctuated with the last trills of the songbirds, which seemed to
have stayed up late to serenade the newly married couple. Twilight had
descended and the last lingering rays of daylight were soon quenched by the
soft darkness that fell with a sudden rapidity and enveloped them in a cloak of
black velvet. Overhead the moon beamed with a silvery glow as if bestowing its
blessing on their union.

Felicia and
Antonius faced each other as the priest bound their hands together. They took
their vows to serve Dominio and to love one another. Antonius smiled at her
with the same dazzled gaze he had shed upon her at their first meeting, and she
faced him with the triumphant air of one who has won victory over a
hard-contested opponent. They exchanged rings: Antonius gave her a delicate
ring of silver and gold entwined together, and she gave him the ring of mother
of pearl she had bought from Bimo’s daughter.

She gazed at
it as she presented it to him and found it particularly fitting: the ring of
pearl represented the Kingdom of Heaven, and the three strands twisted together
symbolized themselves entwined with Dominio in one unbroken cord. She had shown
it to him before the ceremony, and informed him of its special blessing.

“Take this,
Anthony,” she had whispered softly, “and know that whoever wears it will be
specially protected by Dominio. And there is no one I would wish to have it
more than you, my love.”

Now as they
faced each other for the bridal kiss, Felicia had one thought uppermost in her
mind.

How surprised,
she mused, her parents would be when they heard of her marriage!

They sped
along in the dark of night; not a moment could be spared if they were to be
successful in tracking their quarry. They took the great road that wound from
Lycenium in the Mountains of Moldiva, through the vast forest regions inhabited
by the fierce barbarians who lay in wait for unwary travelers, to the golden
shores of Golida.

The journey
before them would be fraught with danger, Lucius knew, and he did not relish
the thought. Though he would hate to be branded a coward, he lacked the
physical courage of his father, who was a soldier at heart if not one in actual
fact.

Tullia wasted
little time in conversation, all of her energies concentrated on re-claiming
the fabulous Sword that was her husband’s one remaining legacy from the wreck of
all they had known in Valerium. Outwardly, she spoke no condemning word that
might hurt Lucius: inwardly, she fumed at the recklessness of her son in his
careless handling of so great a treasure. For a brief instant she found herself
wishing that her son was as devout as her daughter; then this theft would never
have happened. For Felicia would not have taken the Sword without her father’s
knowledge or permission.

Then she
thought of her daughter’s disobedience in running away from the school of her
mentor in order to pursue her own course, regardless of the wishes of her
mother and the distress she brought to Kyrene. She thought of her husband’s
enforced departure to Eirinia to search for the girl, and thought wryly that
both of her children left much to be desired.

O Dominio, she
silently prayed, grant me success in my quest. I must bring Logos back to
Marcus. It is not his fault that it was lost; it is entirely due to Lucius.
Forgive me if I failed in the way I brought him up; I did the best that I could.
But
please
, help me find the Sword!

Their carriage
rattled through the narrow mountain passes that ringed Lycenium, the clatter of
the wheels echoing unnervingly in the quiet stillness. Every sharp turn made
Tullia catch her breath; the passes were usually taken with the utmost care but
she had no time for slow and deliberate caution. Time was slipping through her
hands and every moment took Logos farther away…

She dozed
fitfully, reluctant to stop at inns for rest. She had instructed their driver, Cyriacus,
to drive straight through the night. She was startled, therefore, when the
carriage came to an abrupt halt shortly before dawn, so abruptly that the
sudden cessation threw her forward in her seat.

Cyriacus
appeared at her window and knocked on it. Tullia opened the door so quickly
that he nearly fell over.

“What is the
matter, Cyriacus? Why have we stopped? I ordered you to keep going,” she
inquired abruptly in a tone that lacked her usual courtesy.

Cyriacus bowed
but looked her steadily in the eye.

“I beg your
pardon, lady,” he answered. “The horses are nearly fainting with exhaustion:
the foam is frothing from their mouths and their pace is slowing as their legs
tire. They need to rest or they will go lame.

“There is an
inn in this village, and if we would have a brief respite, they should be able
to continue the journey.”

Tullia sighed
in exasperation. Then her conscience smote her. How thoughtless of others her
haste had made her!

“I apologize,
good Cyriacus,” she rued. “You must be exhausted yourself. We shall go to this
inn and all of us rest for a few hours.”

She roused
Lucius from his slumber and they alit from the carriage and entered a small but
comfortable inn. The proprietor was surprised to see travelers arrive in the
small hours of the morning. Tullia judged it to be about three hours before
daybreak. She asked for two rooms for herself and Lucius: Cyriacus would be
given the customary sleeping quarters above the stable that was reserved for
coachmen.

She instructed
Cyriacus to meet them at seven o’clock, when they would break their fast and
continue their journey. She had not realized how weary she was until she
climbed the stairs to her room, feeling her legs a dead weight that made every
step seem an eternity to complete. She entered her room and did not even pause
to remove her robe, but stumbled across the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

When Tullia
woke, she was startled to see that it was later than she had meant to rise. She
judged by the position of the sun to be about half past eight, and immediately
sprang up to wash her hands and face before donning a clean robe. Abandoning
her usual stately walk as became a patrician matron of Valerium, she scrambled
down the stairs and found her son waiting for her in the common room.

Lucius shot
her a rueful look, and announced that he had already broken his fast with
Cyriacus.

“Why did you
not wake me?” she demanded. “I told you we would meet at seven o’clock, the
faster to be on our way!”

“I am sorry,
Mother, but you seemed so weary and I thought you needed the rest,” Lucius
soothed. “You shall feel better for the sleep; and we shall overtake the
Fabius’ in no time!”

Tullia grabbed
Lucius by the arm and dragged him out of earshot of the others assembled in the
common room. Then she upbraided her son for the first time in his life.

“I can sleep
in the carriage. And I shall not feel ‘better’ as you state it, until the Sword
that your carelessness allowed to be stolen is safely returned to your father!
Do not keep trying my patience, Lucius; or you will discover that you are not
too old to be punished severely for the heartache you have caused me.

“As for
overtaking the Fabius’, you had better pray that we do. For if I can not find
Logos, it will go ill with you, my son. And I do not mean with just myself and
your father. Have you thought about the consequences you will incur from
Dominio if the Sword entrusted to your father with a sacred charge fell into
the wrong hands, never to be returned?”

Lucius grew
pale and his gray eyes widened in his handsome face until they seemed the
largest feature he possessed. Tullia did not wait for his reply, but whirled
around and strode rapidly through the room.

“Come; I can
take something to eat along the way. It is time we continued our journey. I
will not waste any more time, for every moment is vital to the success of our
quest.”

There was
something about the forest that made Lucius increasingly uneasy. Always having
preferred the city to a rural existence, he was not fond of trees to start
with, and this forest was so dense that he wondered if they should ever come to
the end of it. So thick was it that the sun was filtered to a faint beam of
light. Here and there it dappled a small clearing, which in this forest meant a
cluster of only five or six trees standing together instead of dozens
presenting an unbroken wall that climbed to the sky.

Tullia did not
seem to fear the forest; her thought was entirely bent on her mission of
regaining Logos. Lucius wondered if she was still angry with him. He did not like
to dwell on her words regarding Dominio, for fear that Dominio truly was even
angrier with him than his mother was. If he incurred the wrath of Dominio…

It had been
three days since they broke their journey at the inn. They were now far from
civilization and had no choice but to sleep in the carriage. Cyriacus, however,
pulled the carriage off the road at night and sheltered them in a cluster of
trees that grew well back from the gaze of any who happened to pass by.

It was not
safe, he cautioned, to rest on the road. The forest was home to fierce
barbarians who resented the relentless rule of Valerium, and who thought
nothing of making sport with any of its hapless citizens who found themselves
at their mercy on the road. His words made Tullia cast an apprehensive glance
about her, but she said nothing.

Their first
night in the vast forest passed without incident; the only sounds to be heard
were the chirping of spring peepers, the occasional croaking of tree frogs, and
the soft rustle of grass beneath the feet of small animals that scampered
through their domain. Lucius was finally able to relax as the peace of the
sylvan stillness seeped through him, a peace that seemed lacking in the city.
He slept soundly and woke in the morning refreshed and eager to be on the way.
They journeyed on as fast as the horses could carry them, and the trees ran
together in a blur as the carriage sped on in its urgent haste.

On the second
night Lucius’ slumber was rudely interrupted by the sound of shouts nearby.
Tullia was startled out of her sleep at the same moment and they stared at one
another in alarm, her face pale with anxiety, his eyes grown wide with a fear
he would not admit. Cyriacus was dozing on the footrest at the back of the
carriage; he suddenly popped his face in the window and yanked open the door.

“We must be on
our way,” he exclaimed. “There is a band of strange men approaching. They have
left the road and shall soon find our shelter.”

He closed the
door abruptly and scrambled to his seat when they spied a group of strangely
dressed men who erupted into shouts at the sight of their carriage. Their rough
attire of coarse cloth and heavy boots lined with fur only spurred the fear
that Lucius felt stirring in his heart.

Why could he
not be brave like his father, he thought. If only he did not feel this
debilitating helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him in the face of
danger!

Before
Cyriacus could spur the frightened horses onward, the barbarians  quickly
surrounded the carriage. One of them grabbed the reins of the horses as another
pulled open the door.

Tullia managed
to remain calm and as the barbarian reached for her she brought up the heavy
parcel containing her clothes and hit him full in the face with it. He cried
out and clutched his bleeding nose. Another barbarian attempted to enter the
carriage but Tullia grabbed the handle and slammed the door shut on his hand,
evoking a scream of agony from the wounded man.

Lucius roared
with laughter at the sight of his elegant and dignified mother inflicting
bodily harm on a pair of wild barbarians.

Tullia did not
waste time in joining her son’s laughter but shot him a withering look that
quenched the flow of his mirth. He straightened up and attempted to open the
door to aid Cyriacus. He could not open the door due to the press of men who
now surrounded them to impede their flight.

“Quickly,
Lucius! We must pray for Dominio to send us aid!” Tullia cried as she clutched
his hands.

They bowed
their hands and prayed fervently.

“O good
Dominio,” Tullia whispered, “please send us help that we may escape these men
and continue our journey. They are too many for us and there is no one to come
to our aid!”

Lucius agreed
with her prayer, but was reluctant to voice one of his own. It had slowly been
borne home to him that Dominio might indeed be very angry with him for the loss
of Logos. So he contented himself with bowing his head to agree with Tullia.

Barely had
they finished their prayer when they heard thunder, distantly at first, and
then directly over their heads. The heavy boom was startling in both its power
and unexpected onslaught. The skies burst open without warning as rain teemed
down from the heavens. They heard the shrieks of the barbarians, who were
quickly drenched in the downpour. A sizzling sound was heard nearby, and a bolt
of lightning split the darkness and lit up the sky with the brightness of
midday.

The lightning
proved too much for the barbarians and they ran for the shelter of their own
crude huts in another quarter of the forest. Tullia and Lucius laughed to see
their hasty flight.

Tullia
suddenly remembered Cyriacus and opened the door to bid him to enter the
carriage and shelter with them until the rain ended. It was not long before the
storm passed through and they were safe to continue on their way.

Tullia turned
to Lucius with a smile of gratification illuminating her still beautiful face.

“Dominio sent
the storm for our protection,” she announced. “You must remember that, my son.
He will always hear and answer us, as long as we do nothing to grieve His
heart.”