Authors: L. M. Roth
Marcus sat as
one stunned by a heavy blow. What, what could his father possibly have done to
the Empress to engender such an act? Revenge, Felix had said. But, revenge for
what?
“Felix, what
old score could the Empress possibly have with my father? We have never had any
contact with the Imperial family apart from the usual duties my father’s
position demands, and the occasional entertainment that my parents were invited
to partake of. What could he possibly have done to offend her?”
Felix gave an
exaggerated shrug of his lean shoulders.
“I know not.
But you know how unpredictable Aurora is. What can you expect from a woman who
refused to wear mourning when her husband passed away this past spring? And
that happened scarcely a month after her father’s death. Yet I hear that
scarcely a week has not passed without its banquet or revelry since she took
the throne. It would appear that she is a woman in celebration, not mourning!
Never have I seen less respect for the dead.”
Marcus
pondered on Felix’s pronouncement.
“You are
right, Felix. Even when her father the Emperor was alive Aurora was known for
her love of feasts and pageants. But to continue after the loss of two members
of her family so closely together is incomprehensible!”
Felix’s laugh
illuminated his face as the shake of his head set his curls bouncing. He now
seemed recovered from his shock at beholding Marcus, returned as if from the
dead, and rejoicing at their reunion.
“Oh, no
mystery there, my good fellow! Aurora simply
hated
her husband, all know
that! Her marriage to Liberius was arranged for her by her father. It is said
that she hated him so much that she kept him at arm’s length during the whole
of their marriage. Why else were no children born of their union? True, he found
solace with other women, mainly with the wives of good servants of the Empire
who turned a blind eye to the Imperial son-in-law poaching on their territory.
But it was Aurora’s coldness that was a contributing factor!”
“Still,”
Marcus puzzled, “what can she possibly have against my father? And why should
my mother be imprisoned as well?”
Felix clapped
a hand on Marcus’ shoulder.
“Marcus, do
not weary yourself in the contemplation of the reasoning of women. As for
myself, I have given it up as a lost cause!”
Marcus
chortled.
“You are
possibly right, Felix. And speaking of women,” he paused, suddenly shy, “how is
Tullia? Does she also think I am dead?”
Felix stopped
in mid-stride. He turned his head as if his attention was caught by the
appearance of a thrush that suddenly flew past.
“Tullia, yes,
well, that’s just it, my good fellow. Tullia, as did all of us, believes you
are dead.”
“Well, then, I
must be sure to let her know of her mistake at once!” Marcus exclaimed.
“Oh, but she
has already left for Moldiva for the winter season with her mother. You know
how they like to partake of the refinement and revelry to be had in Lycenium
during the cold months that we lack in Valerium. So you cannot let her know you
are alive unless you send her a message. And besides, Marcus, do not forget
that you were seized and sold into slavery once already. Would it be wise to
announce the news of your return so soon? You are in danger still.”
Marcus
considered the words of his friend.
“But, Felix, I
cannot see the danger of telling Tullia I am safe. Surely she must be told
there is no cause for grief!”
“Are you so
sure she is grieving, Marcus? Perhaps she is not,” Felix bristled.
“What are you
saying? What are you telling me, Felix?”
Marcus stared
at him.
“Only that you
may have read more into Tullia’s attention to you than was justified.”
Marcus felt a
sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He dreaded to ask, yet he must know.
He stopped in the road and grabbed the arm of his friend.
“Felix, are
you saying that Tullia has transferred her affection to another? Is that what
you are trying to tell me?”
“Well, in a
word, yes. She has.”
Felix looked
uncomfortable. He shuffled his feet and looked at the ground.
Marcus took a
deep breath. He opened his mouth, but he scarcely dared to frame the word, for
a dawning suspicion had clutched at his heart.
“Who?”
Felix cleared
his throat and raised his eyes to look directly at Marcus.
“Well,
actually…to me.”
Felix paused
and looked away from the stunned gaze of Marcus, from the wounded eyes of his
friend.
“After all,
Marcus, it
was
I who knew her first. And to be perfectly honest, I
did
feel that an attachment was growing between us before you caught her eye with
your looks like a god come to Earth, and started spouting poetry to her! I am
hardly to blame if she turned back to me once you were out of the picture. Can
I help it if her affection is so easily transferred from one to the other?”
Marcus made an
effort to recover himself. He did not want to be ungracious to his friend, who clearly
believed that he had found favor with Tullia. Yet he felt that Tullia had truly
loved him, Marcus, and no other.
He raised his
head and slowly exhaled, drained from all of the shocks he had endured upon his
return home.
“Perhaps you
are right. Perhaps a woman whose affection is so easily given is not worthy of
either of us!”
He spat out
the last words in a rush of anger as he struggled to contain the rising tide of
his emotions.
“Do not say
that of her, Marcus. It would be unfair. Say, perhaps, that one can only
appreciate the luminosity of the moon when the glory of the sun is not there to
eclipse it, and only then does one realize that the moon guides one’s way in
the dark when the sun is absent. I was a lesser light in the firmament compared
to your handsome face and dashing appearance. Maybe she could not see me when
you were on her horizon, because you blinded her to me as surely as the moon is
hidden from view in the full light of day.”
“Perhaps,”
Marcus half-snickered on the word as bitterness invaded his heart. Was it not
enough to lose his home, his freedom and his parents without facing the
humiliation of seeing the woman he hoped to wed so quickly turn to another? Was
Tullia truly so fickle, so false? Or was Felix mistaken and Tullia had merely
turned to him for comfort after the supposed death of Marcus? Truly that must
be the case, for he could not be mistaken in the love he believed Tullia to
bear for himself!
But Marcus
remembered a more pressing matter at hand. The question of whom Tullia loved or
did not love would have to wait. If indeed he decided that such a seemingly
fickle maiden was worthy of his heart at all!
“Let us not
speak any more of Tullia at present, Felix. The urgent question to be answered
is how to free my father and mother from the hand of the Empress. What shall we
do?”
Her eyes were
opaque, full of secrets. Marcus had never beheld eyes like hers before. But
where before had he seen just that shade of green, neither emerald nor its
paler glory, peridot? Ah, yes, his father had once brought back from a campaign
the army had waged in a far away land a stone of just that shade. Jade,
Valerius called it.
He had bought
it from a merchant who had traveled to a fabled land that was reported to have
a greater kingdom and emperor than even Valerium possessed. In that land this
stone was held to be very valuable and reputed to have magical properties,
Valerius explained to Marcus. Of course, he did not hold with such nonsense,
but his fancy had been taken by the stone. He had placed it in his library with
his other objects of great worth.
Marcus now
recalled the quality of that jade stone. It did not sparkle as did other gems
of his acquaintance. Instead, it seemed almost mysterious, its substance being
rather enigmatic, not quite accessible somehow.
Now as he
gazed at Aurora he felt that same sense of perplexity, as though here was a
mystery that he would never comprehend.
Felix had
violently objected to Marcus’ suggestion that he petition an audience with the
Empress. He was appalled at the very idea, and reminded Marcus that it was this
very woman who had ordered him sold into slavery. She would most likely not be
very pleased at his return!
Marcus
reflected on this statement, and realized his friend was probably right. The
late Emperor Beatus, Aurora’s father, had been a fair and just ruler, one who
cared for the welfare of his people and the prosperity of his Empire. No matter
had been too small for his notice, no question of justice too trivial for his
resolution. The populace had loved him, and even the slaves had breathed
easier, sensing the kindness in this good and honest man.
His daughter
Aurora, however, proved to be altogether different; appearing at first sight to
be a frivolous woman who enjoyed gaiety and festivities, she proved to be a
tyrant who lashed out at any slight, real or imagined, and who was quick to
execute punishment on the hapless victims of her malice and offended vanity.
But Marcus
desired more than anything to determine the reason for his father’s arrest and
the seizure of his estate. He would not rest until he had an answer from the
Empress. And, he thought grimly as he strode into her courtyard, the
explanation had better be a valid one!
He had been challenged
at the gate by the guard, who nearly dropped his sword in stunned amazement
when Marcus gave his name.
“How have you,
a lad not yet full grown, returned unharmed from Eirinia, from that savage land
and its even fiercer people? There must be more to you than appears on the
surface, my lord!”
For a moment
Marcus was torn between the desire to bask in the compliment to his manhood, or
to reprimand the soldier for his impertinence at confessing his surprise at his
survival. Surely nothing less should be expected of the son of the great
General Valerius Maximus! He prudently decided, however, that any display of
temper on his part might very well endanger his parents, so he swallowed his
pride and informed the soldier of his wish for an audience with the Empress.
The guard sent
word to a page to convey his request. A full quarter of an hour passed before
his return. In the interval Marcus took stock of his surroundings. He had seen
the palace before, but only at a distance. His mother and father had attended
banquets and other royal entertainments here, but Marcus had been left at home
as befitted his youth. Not until he had seen eighteen summers would he be
granted an invitation into the imperial palace.
In truth, he
found it forbidding. Emperor Cassianus, who had overseen the erecting of it,
had taken the notion to have the entirety of it constructed of black stone.
True, there was a vein of rose that ran through it, not a pink hue, but a red
with a tinge of purple, like blood. Marcus in some way found this even more
unsettling than the black iron gate that had clanged shut behind him as he
entered the courtyard upon the return of the page. The black iron was evident
also in the benches scattered hither and yon throughout the courtyard.
But none of
this prepared his eyes for his first sight of the great hall. Throughout this
vast room pillars of black marble graced a floor that consisted of squares of
the same black granite streaked with rose as the exterior walls, alternating
with square tiles of deep rose-red marble. As Marcus crossed the alternating
tiles, he felt as though he traversed a huge chessboard, with himself in the
role of a pawn. It was a game he had often played with his father Valerius
explaining the strategy of it that many generals used in mapping a military
campaign.
With an
increasing sense of dread growing in his heart, Marcus had been escorted to the
Empress by two of her retainers. As he walked between them he stole furtive
glances at them from the corners of his eyes. One was tall, thin and silent
with hooded eyes and a face that looked as though he had just bitten a very
sour lemon. The other was short, plump and had an oily face, and a laugh that
seemed oilier still.
“Now then,
young man, there are a few rules which it would be wise for you to heed when
dealing with the Empress,” smirked the short one, whose name was Odelius.
“Yes,
most
wise, indeed,” agreed the tall one, Iosephus, in a voice like gravel rolling
down a rock face.
“Remember!”
Odelius clapped his hands. Marcus stood inadvertently to attention.
“You must
never
simply ask a favor of the Empress. You must first declare yourself breathless,
indeed
awestruck
, at the sight of beauty such as hers. You must declare
that never could you have
dreamed
that beauty such as hers existed. And
you must declare that simply to be in the presence of beauty such as hers must
surely
satisfy every desire of your heart. To be plain, you must first grovel at her
feet before asking any favor.”
“Yes, grovel.
She simply
adores
it,” Iosephus concurred.
“But, why must
I act in such a manner? She cannot believe that I would flatter the woman who
imprisoned my parents and had me taken captive, to be sold into slavery. She
cannot expect me to fawn over her!”
“Can she not?”
Odelius huffed. “Why do you think your parents were imprisoned in the first
place? It was because of..”
“Ahem,”
Iosephus cleared his throat. “The walls have ears, you know. If you wish to
keep yours as well as your tongue, I would suggest you say no more!”
Odelius opened
his mouth, then clamped it shut. He paused a moment, twisting his mouth to one
side. Then he smiled at Marcus. It was not, however, a smile that was conducive
to inspire warm feelings of good will from Marcus. The smile was forced, and
Odelius’ eyes looked sideways at Iosephus.
“Perhaps you
are right, Iosephus. Why should I keep General Maximus company in his prison?”
He turned to
Maximus with his smirk once more adorning his countenance.
“You just
remember and pay heed to what I told you. Remember!
No
one offends the
Empress Aurora. And if you are not impressed by her, she will most certainly be
offended!”