Chronicles of Logos Quest For the Kingdom Parts IV, V, VI, and VII Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set) (57 page)

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.

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.”

“Yes, I think
you are right,” Maelys agreed, as she nodded her head. “But what we must think
of now is what to do about the damage they have done. How can we turn the
hearts of the villagers back to Dominio?”

“First,”
Kyrene interjected. “I wish to know what caused them to reconcile after not
speaking to one another for more than twenty years. What brought about their
reunion? Do you know?”

Maelys snorted
and tossed back her curls.

“Oh, yes, I
certainly do! It was Melisande who was responsible for it. I do not know all of
the details, but in some manner she managed to get them together and talk for
the first time in all these years. Why she did this, I am not sure. But I have
my own suspicions regarding that!”

Kyrene studied
the girl with anxiety stirring in her tender heart; it was already clear to her
that Maelys disliked her sister-in-law, and perhaps with justifiable reason.
But Kyrene knew that Dominio loved the daughter of Fanchon as dearly as He
loved the daughter of Dag, and she must somehow make Maelys see that. No matter
what her feelings were for Melisande, she must treat her with kindness and
compassion.

For the
moment, however, she merely focused on sifting for the truth of the motive
behind Melisande’s interference with an old family feud.

“Can you tell
me why Melisande did this? Do you have the facts? Or are you merely
speculating, and allowing your dislike of her to color the truth?”

Kyrene put the
question to her with the brutal honesty of the prophet, those who must see the
world in black and white, and not allow affection to blind them to the
weaknesses and foibles of those whom they loved. She felt a deep regard and
concern for Dag’s daughter, but she refused to allow Maelys’ prejudice and
animosity to turn her against Fanchon’s daughter.

“Well, well, I
mean, no…I do not know why Melisande did it,” Maelys stammered in sudden
confusion. “But the entire village knows that she spent time visiting Enora
last winter. And it was shortly after that that Niamh and her sister were
reconciled. And right after that Niamh insisted on having Eoghan recognized at
the Spring Festival, even putting her husband Laig up to suggesting it at the
village council meeting when they planned the Festival. My father refused to
permit such an abomination, but Niamh defied him and did it anyway; she just
strolled to the center of the green and praised Dominio, and then gave thanks
to Eoghan for the return of spring.”

Kyrene
digested this recital in silence. It was possible that Melisande had a hand in
reconciling the sisters, for what motive she could not guess as the woman was a
stranger whom she had not yet met. But why would Niamh allow Enora to influence
her to the extent of attempting to call on the old gods, those whom she had not
called on for more than twenty years?

Or had she
continued to do so in secret, and none were aware?

She turned to
Maelys abruptly.

“I should like
to meet your sister-in-law,” she stated. “And then I want to pay a visit to
Niamh.”

Kyrene could
not help but be moved in her spirit at the plight of the young woman before
her. She had requested that Maelys introduce her to Melisande, and then leave
them alone together. She wished to talk to her privately, and knew that if
Maelys were present Melisande would shut down under the dislike of the other
girl.

Her first
thought was that she bore no resemblance to Fanchon at all. Except for the
subtleties of accent in her voice, which was low and husky where her mother’s
had been high and ethereal. In manner they were different as well. Fanchon had
been as flighty as a butterfly, flitting from one topic of conversation to
another, her speech frequently punctuated with laughter, the product of a heart
filled with joy. Melisande was slow of speech and deliberate in manner, and Kyrene
suspected that joy was a stranger whose acquaintance she had never met.

Melisande was
wary of Kyrene, obviously wondering why she had wanted to meet her, and to talk
to her alone. But her cold aloofness gradually thawed under the warmth of the
woman who sat opposite her, and when the cries of little Gwenaelle interrupted
their polite conversation, Kyrene asked permission to pick her up and rock her.
It was graciously given, Melisande taking a considerable pride in her baby
daughter, and delighted that someone should show an interest in the child.

Kyrene picked
up the babe and stared into her small face. Her smile was tender and genuine,
and a tear rolled unexpectedly down her face, much to the surprise of her
hostess.

“Is something
wrong?” Melisande asked anxiously. “Why do you look at my little girl and
weep?”

“Forgive me,”
Kyrene replied. “It is just that I knew your mother, and it moves me deeply
that she shall never see her granddaughter; never see her smile at her, never
feel her touch in a caress, never hear the sound of her voice raised in
laughter. Your mother loved to laugh, you know.”

Without
warning Melisande erupted in tears, and sobs shook her body, causing her to
heave as they wracked her with the force of a stream in flood that sweeps away every
obstacle from its path. She attempted to control herself and to apologize for
her tears, but Kyrene brushed aside her apologies.

“There is no
need to apologize, or even to be sorry!” she assured the weeping young woman.
“It is only natural to weep for those we love and miss. And what could be more
natural than for you to wish that your mother could see your child?”

Melisande
smiled at Kyrene through her tears, and hiccupped as the torrent finally
slowed. She took several deep breaths as she slowly regained control.

“Yes, I do
wish that she could be here to see Gwenaelle,” she whispered, her voice filled
with such a sad yearning that it brought tears to Kyrene’s eyes as well. “But
do you know why I wept? I wept because you are the only person who has
mentioned my mother with any affection, any indication that she is missed. Cort
seems to have hated her and does not hesitate to speak of her with scorn; but
you seem to have liked my mother, and it comforts me to know that.”

Kyrene was not
surprised at this disclosure: she recalled the friction that had always been
present between Cort and Fanchon as they vied for Dag’s affection. What
astonished her was that Cort should have revealed that dislike and derision
that he felt for Fanchon to her daughter. Surely he must know that Dominio
would not be pleased with such behavior!

She considered
her words before addressing Melisande again with the matter of Cort’s conduct.

“Melisande,”
she began hesitantly. “Cort and Fanchon did not always get on well together.
They were very different in temperament and character. Cort was very practical,
even as a child, and he could always see to the heart of a matter and express
what others could not put into words. Or that they feared to. But Fanchon loved
to laugh and to dance; she was not given to contemplation and the pursuit of
serious matters. She was like a butterfly, and it can not survive in any but a
warm climate; when the frost comes, it dies. Yet it delights the hearts of all
who behold it during its brief life span. Can you understand this?”

Melisande
nodded her head; tears filled her eyes once more, but it was clear to Kyrene
that she listened with rapt attention to every word she said.

“Fanchon was
very much like that. She laughed and danced and liked pretty clothes and new
adventures. Oh, she was such a delight!” Kyrene exclaimed as a little sob tore
at her throat.

She apologized
to Melisande as she wiped away a sudden tear.

“I am sorry. I
have not thought of her in years but speaking of her brings it all back, so
vividly! Yes, I was fond of her and missed her when she left us and remained in
Gaudereaux.”

Here she
paused and glanced surreptitiously at Melisande. The young woman’s lips
hardened, and she did not hesitate to speak her mind.

“You mean when
Dag left her in Gaudereaux,” she said accusingly in a voice that was as hard as
stone. “He broke their betrothal and abandoned her for his God.”

Kyrene shook
her head slowly from side to side, never taking her eyes off the bitter young
woman.

“No,
Melisande; that is not the way it was. I was there, and I know what happened.
But, why not tell me what you think happened, and I can tell you where you are
mistaken.”

Melisande
looked at her uncertainly; it was apparent to Kyrene that this was not the
response she expected to her denunciation of Dag.

“I was told
that my mother wanted to live in Gaudereaux and gave Dag the choice between her
and his God. And he chose Dominio over her. It broke her heart. And in the end
it killed her.”

Kyrene’s eyes
were softly sympathetic as she listened to the unhappy girl. Yet, she must tell
her the truth.

“But do you
not see that Dag made the only choice that he could, Melisande? He made a vow,
a vow to serve Dominio, and it cost him dearly. He was cast out of his own
tribe, who put a sentence of death on him, are you aware of that? And this
frightened your mother, who begged him to renounce Dominio and forsake Him to
live with her in Gaudereaux.

“Yet, how
could he do such a thing? He made a vow, a sacred vow, and he must keep it. To
break that vow would be to bring a curse on himself, and all he loved. Dag had
no choice: he had to choose Dominio over Fanchon, whom I know he loved deeply.
He suffered when he left her in Gaudereaux. I know; I was there.”

That this
statement was a surprise to Melisande was evident to Kyrene. Her eyes widened
and her mouth dropped open slightly. Her animosity was softened and a thoughtful
expression came into her green eyes, replacing the hard glint of a few moments
ago.

“He did? He
suffered? I did not know that; Cort did not tell me so. I always thought that
he left her behind without any regard for her feelings, as hard and pitiless as
an ascetic who feels nothing for no one.”

She meditated
on her own statement as Kyrene studied her. Melisande seemed to be considering
the situation from a new angle, and it gave Kyrene the encouragement to utter
what she said next.

“Dag suffered;
he suffered until he met Judoc a year later, and his heart was healed. But a
true ascetic is not hard and pitiless; rather, he gives his whole heart to the
One who loves all of mankind the same. And when he gives his heart entirely to
Dominio, he is rewarded by feeling that same love for mankind that Dominio has.
He can see beyond what mere man sees on the surface, to the pain and suffering
and bitterness that is too often masked and unperceived by those who see only
the bad deeds that are the fruit of such wounding.