Chronicles of Logos Quest For the Kingdom Parts IV, V, VI, and VII Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set) (72 page)

Antonius had
been so astonished by the peculiar behavior of his father that he slept little
that night. There had been something in the way he had addressed Silvia Lucius
that reminded him of the way his father had addressed his mother on the morning
after a night of beating…

He finally
rose just as the first rays of sunlight streaked through the windows, touching
the ivory and pink tiles of the mosaic on the floor with fingers of mauve and
violet. The sight called him to the window, where he watched as the sun
ascended in a burst of pastel glory that dispelled the shadows of night,
sending them fleeing to the far corners of the sky.

Shadows, he
thought. Shadows of things of long ago, that yet torment me now. There was
something last night, something between my father and that woman, something I
should know but do not.

He glanced at
his wife still sleeping soundly and crept to his wardrobe, where he fumbled for
the first garment that came to his fingertips. He had no wish to waken her, and
he did not need one of his father’s slaves to assist him with dressing.
Antonius rued the fact that all of the servants were slaves and not freedmen
who received wages; but this was his father’s household and he could not change
what his father had set.

He closed the
door of the bedchamber softly behind him, and paused at his father’s door. He
heard movement within; Decimus had always been an early riser, so vigorous and
dynamic that for him sleep was a mere interruption of his constant activity.
Antonius debated within himself, and then pulled up a chair to wait for his
father to emerge.

He did not
have long to wait. The door of his father’s room burst open and Decimus spilled
out into the hall. He looked surprised at the sight of his son so obviously
waiting for him, and then the surprise turned to wariness.

Antonius rose
from his chair.

“Father, I
wish to speak to you privately. May we walk the grounds for a bit?”

Decimus merely
nodded his head and continued to stare at his son as an expression of something
akin to dread crossed his handsome face.

The sun was no
longer mauve and violet, and the morning light was a pale gold that touched the
small pond that was bordered with gracious shade trees. They were reflected in
the water, and the green of the trees and the stillness of the water brought a
tear to Antonius’ eye; he sensed that in a moment all of this would change and the
world would never be the same again. He strolled beside his father, silently at
first, neither of them willing to be the first to break the last few moments of
peace.

But he had
sought out his father to find answers, and therefore must speak. He did not know
how to begin, so he started with the question that tore at his heart.

“What
happened, Father?” he asked abruptly as he turned to look Decimus in the eye.
“What happened between you and Silvia Lucius that you greeted her the way you
did last night?”

A visible lump
rose in his father’s throat: he watched it idly, waiting for his answer; an
answer he was certain he did not wish to hear…

Decimus in
turn did not know how to answer his son, so he answered as abruptly as his son
had questioned him.

“You do not
know?” he asked, staring at him in disbelief. “You truly do not know?”

“Know what?”
Antonius asked as he tried to fight down a rising sense of panic.

Decimus
wavered for a moment, and glanced up at the window of his son’s bedchamber,
where his son’s wife still lay asleep.

“I thought
perhaps Felicia had told you, or her father,” he said, bewildered that this
should not be so.

“No, I do not
know what you are talking about, Father. I merely want to know what happened
that you addressed Silvia the way you did. What loved one did she lose that you
mentioned, and was sorry about?”

Decimus flung
himself down on a bench and buried his face in his hands. He shook it back and
forth and rocked his body in accompaniment. He remained in this manner for some
time before Antonius dropped down on his knees before him and gently removed
his father’s hands from his face.

“Tell me,
Father? What is it that you think I know?”

Decimus slowly
raised his head and looked into the eyes of his son. Antonius noted how green
they were, with a brilliant glint of fire that could flash unexpectedly. Today
they were dull and lifeless, as if their owner had suddenly lost his zest for
life. His father continued to stare at him for several moments before he
finally gestured to the bench.

“Sit down,
Antonius, here next to me. I have something to tell you; something I hoped to
never tell you. But now I must.”

Antonius
stumbled up the stairs to his bedchamber. He opened the door not caring now
whether he woke Felicia or not. He heaved himself down on the couch and lay
face down, scarcely able to breath. He wished he could stop breathing, stop the
pain that tore at his heart and stifled the breath in his lungs.

Felicia woke
with a small yawn and sat up in the bed, stretching like a kitten that has just
taken a nap and is ready for frolic. She saw her husband and smiled at him
tenderly. She rose from the bed and sauntered over to where he lay on the
couch. She put a hand on his shoulder.

“Antonius,”
she purred gently. “Good morning, darling. You were up early today.”

He did not
respond, but lay still. Bewildered at his inertia, she pulled on his shoulder
and turned him over. The wide staring eyes that looked up at her frightened
her, and she shook him. He suddenly sat up and shook himself, and she flung her
arms around him in relief.

“Oh, Antonius!
You worried me so; for a moment I thought you were dead, so white was your face
and you stared at me as if you did not see me.”

Antonius
moaned and buried his face on her shoulder. She cupped his head in her hands
and raised his head, forcing him to look at her.

“What is it,
Antonius? Something has happened. Tell me what it is that we may share it
together.”

He stared at
her with eyes so blank that she feared they would never reflect any feeling
ever again. He moaned again.

“You know,” he
muttered, “and you did not tell me. How could you not tell me?”

“Tell you
what, Antonius?” she asked in confusion. “What did I not tell you?”

He looked at
her again with those awful unseeing eyes, and she realized that he was in shock
and suddenly knew what it was.

“About my
father; about my father and the man he killed. That is what he referred to last
night when he spoke to Silvia Lucius, and that is what you knew but did not
tell me.”

“Oh, but
Antonius, I did not know until I saw a vision of it in Kyrene’s eyes, when we
met to take the pledge, and I asked your father about it. He admitted it, but
he is not proud of what he did. Indeed, it has haunted him all these years, and
he even said that he fears the day his punishment will catch up to him, a
punishment he was never given because he was the Governor’s son.

“And I could
not tell you, Antonius. Your father loves you so, and you love him: I could not
tell you what happened. Indeed, it was not my secret to tell, but his alone. My
own father felt that way and never told me, no! not even when he found out that
we had married secretly. He did not tell me what your father did, and he could
have done so in hopes that it might turn me against your father and then I
would consent to a divorce. But there is too much honor in my father to shame
another man, even at his own expense.”

And Felicia
raised her chin slightly in her pride of Marcus Maximus. As her husband saw it,
the gesture succeeded in loosing the floodgates that had held back his own
anguish.

“Yes!
He
is
honorable; and my father is not. And now I know it, and can never love him
again. How can I after what he did?”

“But you must,
Antonius! You can not hate your father. That is why my father never told me,
why he never told you. You must honor your father and mother; you know this.”

Antonius gave
a laugh that frightened her in its bitterness. Her gentle and innocent husband,
forced to see the father he adored in a new and strange light that revealed all
of the hidden darkness of his heart. How it wrung hers to see the breaking of
his!

“Honor!” he
exclaimed. “Honor! Where is there honor in this world? In Lycenium? No, for the
son of the Governor long ago got away with murder. In Valerium? No, for the
people endure the whims of a tyrant who murders those who disagree with him,
and not one voice is raised in protest against him. In Potentus? No, for there
the viper reigns who poisons the honor of Dominio, forcing all to bow to Him,
whether they truly believe in Him or not, shaming His name, as all are deceived
into thinking that He is as bloodthirsty as the Emperor.”

Antonius
stared at Felicia with eyes that were now awake, yet wakened with a ferocious
fury that sent alarm racing through her body.

“Well, I tell
you this, Felicia: I will no longer tolerate dishonor. I shall expose it
wherever I find it. I shall uproot it for the evil it is. And I shall go to
Potentus, and begin with the master of dishonor, Emperor Iacomus.”

On a day when
the last of the azaleas had seen its bloom, and the wild roses first reared
their ravishing heads, and the trees had burst into their full foliage, Dag
Adalbart returned to Eirinia.

His family
greeted him with fierce hugs and all but devoured his face with kisses, Maelys
first, followed by Nolwenn, whose tears ran like a river as she saw her father
for the first time in two years. Dirk attempted to greet his father like a man,
simply extending his hand, before emotion overtook him and he whimpered like a
small boy. Dag pulled him close and held him, rocking him gently in his arms as
his own tears fell unhindered. For once, Dag did not care who saw him cry, so
thankful was he to be reunited with his family.

At last Judoc
gathered the family together and they retired to the family hut. Everyone burst
into excited conversation as they rejoiced at their reunion. Dag simply beamed
on all of them like the sun on a field of flowers, and Judoc kept kissing the
cheek of Nolwenn who clung to her mother as if afraid she might slip away.

Kyrene and
Lucius left them alone and retreated to Brit’s hut, where she too had felt the
need for discretion and to leave the family in peace. The three of them spoke
quietly and it was borne to Kyrene that she and Lucius could depart soon, as
the return of Dag would release her to go. She voiced her thoughts and watched
him anxiously for his response.

“Lucius, I
just realized that we are free to go home. Dag is back and all will be well now
that he has returned. He can stand with his family against the rebels, for even
Nolwenn has turned back to Dominio. Together they will be an indomitable force
against any who rise against them.”

Lucius cast a
startled glance at her, and the expression of dismay was all that she needed to
confirm her fear for his peace of mind.

“It is true,”
she continued gently, “we do not belong to this land, you and I, and we must
return home.”

But Lucius
only stared at her blankly and said nothing.

Dag and Dirk
strolled through the fields and looked at the sun overhead.

“A good day,”
Dirk pronounced. “No clouds, should be fair and sunny.”

Dag nodded in
agreement.

He paused to
study his son, astonished at how the lad had grown in the two years since he
had seen him last. There was no doubt that Dag Adalbart was his father, Dag
thought; to look at his son was to look in a mirror and see his own reflection
staring back at him. Dirk had now reached his full height and was as tall as
his father.

Dag thought
with a pang of his brothers Brenus and Cort. How he missed them! Even the
passage of two years did not assuage his grief over Brenus. If someone had
accompanied him that day in the woods would he have died? It was with relief,
however, that he noted a lessening in Judoc’s grief. Since their return to
Leith she had laughed as he had not seen her laugh in several years, joking
with Maelys, sharing confidences with Kyrene and Brit, and most of all,
delighting in Nolwenn’s return to the family prayer times.

It was Maelys
who told him of the events leading up to her dramatic turnabout. Judoc had
related to him the beating her older brother had administered to her, and Brand
had chimed in.

“Aye, Father,
it was a sight to see! Dirk fair had smoke coming out of his ears, so he did.
And Nolwenn was wailing like a ghost looking for a place to haunt. You should
have seen it, for a sight it was!”

Judoc frowned
at her youngest son, but Dag chuckled in amusement. It was true that Judoc had
been so immersed in her grief over losing her eldest son that she had paid
little heed to the others, and so had missed what her other children had seen
in Nolwenn. And his amusement over Dirk’s behavior turned to pride when Maelys
told him the rest of the story.

“It was Dirk
who held us all together, Father. Why he watched Nolwenn like a mother hen
watching for the fox, guarding his one little chick, who stood no chance
against him. He said he found her one night mooning over an amulet she was
consulting, an amulet given to her in secret by Melisande, no less! And he
destroyed it, and she acted peculiar, he said, saying the amulet was evil. And
from that time there was a slight change in her. But it was when she finally
saw the real Melisande that she was free of her spell. For that woman is evil;
make no mistake about it Father. And our Dirk was going to make sure that his
little sister was cut loose from her web.”

And Maelys
related the account with visible pride in her brother, her chin lifted high as
she stood erectly and her lips curved in a smile. And for a reason that he
could not account for, Dag felt the sting of tears come to his eyes.

He remembered
that conversation now as he stood with his son; his eldest son, as Cort
reminded him before he left to seek his own place in the world. And for the
first time, Dag wondered if Dirk had felt excluded from the circle of manhood
that had been Dag, Cort, and Brenus.

“Son,” he said
now.

Dirk turned to
look at him.

“I am proud of
you,” Dag said simply. “Proud of the way you kept the family together while I
was gone. Proud of the way you protected your little sister. Proud to call you
my son. And I want you to know it.”

He was amazed
by the feel and look of the land. Dag shook his head, stunned even as Kyrene
was by the browning of Eirinia. But even more alarming was the sense of evil
rising around him, and taking its measure of the villagers, seeking prey and
instruments through which it could operate.

He did not see
much of Laig or Niamh. They had welcomed him back with smiles that appeared
genuine, yet he was certain that Niamh was startled by his return. Had she
thought he would never return? And where did she get such a notion?

Melisande kept
to herself for the most part, staying in her hut and leaving the family alone.
She knew she was not welcome after the altercation with Nolwenn at Spring
Festival. But she startled him one day when they met by accident as both were
walking on the green just before sunset. Both had set out for a walk, and when
they ran into the other, he gestured for her to walk with him. She hesitated
for a moment, and then fell into step beside him.

She had
brought Gwenaelle with her, and he held out a large hand to the child. She
laughed and grasped it, and he tickled her under her tiny chin. The exchange
surprised Melisande and she turned to stare at her father-in-law.

“You like
Gwenaelle?” she asked, as astonishment swamped her face.

“Of course I
like her,” Dag chuckled. “She is a fine child; she has the look of her father.
But I also see a look of…your mother.”

Melisande
halted her steps completely. For a moment she stared straight ahead of her, and
then slowly turned to face Dag. She lifted puzzled eyes to his.

“You know who
I am,” she said simply. “Who told you? Cort?”

Dag nodded.

“Yes he did.
Not long after he told you. He thought I should know.”

He paused for
a moment and his face became touched by sorrow.

“I was sorry
to hear of Fanchon’s death. I once cared about her very much. We almost wed.”

Melisande
caught her breath and tears filled her eyes. She turned piercing eyes upon Dag
and searched his for truth. She was amazed at what she saw.

“You mean
that; you truly mean that,” she marveled. “If you cared, then why did you not
marry her? Why did you abandon her?”

“I did not
abandon her: it was she who abandoned Dominio. She made a vow to serve Him and
broke it, and demanded that I break mine also to be with her. I could not do
that. No man could do such a thing and still be a man. So I left my love behind
in Gaudereaux. It almost killed me, but I did it. I wept inside and my days
were dark, and it was not until I met Judoc that I knew joy again.”

So grave was
his face as he related the tale of those long ago days, that in spite of her
malice and her hatred of this man Melisande found herself strangely moved.
Kyrene had told her something similar, but she had not known the depths of Dag’s
love for her mother as he now shared it with her daughter. Now the pain of his
silent suffering and the knowledge of it startled a confession from her that
she had not intended to make.

“I tried to
kill you, Dag,” she burst out. “It was I who doctored the potion that Nolwenn
bought from Yuna. I wanted you to die, as she died, as my mother, that is…died.
And I made trouble between Cort and Brenus to drive them apart. I did all of
that, Dag. Because I wanted you to suffer, as my mother suffered.”

He gave her an
impassive look that betrayed no hint of his feelings. She shook her head slowly
as a strange expression came over her face.

“But now I see
that you already have.”

She turned
from him abruptly and walked quickly back to her hut, leaving Dag to enjoy the
sunset alone.