Authors: L. M. Roth
Marcus slept
through the day. He was roused from his slumber at last by a slave who informed
him that it would soon be time for the evening meal, and his mistress was
certain he would be hungry.
Marcus thanked
him and roused himself at last. He made his way to a small table containing a
pitcher of water and a basin. He splashed water over his face and neck, and ran
a comb made of whale bone through his luxurious mane of thick dark waves. He
rummaged the cupboard for a suitable robe, and donned it quickly.
Seeing no sign
of his friends in the corridor, he descended the broad staircase of ivory
marble to the atrium below. He stood for a moment basking in the last rays of
sunlight streaming through the roof opening, then sauntered to the dining hall
which was located down a corridor from the atrium.
Here,
geniality and an air of welcoming awaited him. Marcus had always loved this
room. The same ivory marble was repeated through the house, but the floor
mosaic contained tiles of amber and gold that warmed the effect. The long
tables of dark green agate were unusual items of furniture in a city where most
dining tables were made of white or black marble. But Silvia had seen the
tables in Lycenium and at once fell in love with them. She added plump cushions
of bronze silk to the tables’ accompanying couches, and hung moss green
draperies against the ivory walls.
The overall
effect was inviting in its sylvan coziness. It was a room that contrasted
starkly with other Valerian homes, where the predominant colors were black or
white marble with red or blue accents.
Over a sumptuous
meal that consisted of a variety of meats, fruits, breads, and sweetmeats,
Marcus felt himself begin to unwind and relax for the first time in many
months. It amused him to watch Cort attempt to decide on the choice between
rich roast veal, creamed oysters, herb encrusted sole, or duck marinated in
wine, to be accompanied by peaches stewed in aromatic spices, sugar-coated
grapes, mushrooms sautéed in butter, peas cooked in mint, or to partake of
plump white rolls, cheese filled bread, or rounds of dark bread coated with
honey.
For Dag the
choice presented no difficulty, Marcus noted. He chose the simplest fare of
veal, mushrooms, peas, and his face broke into smiles as he bit into several
rounds of the honey coated dark bread.
Marcus himself
ate with no thought to what was before him. His anxiety was returning at the
thought of facing Aurora and telling her that the Pearl she sought did not
exist. He felt his stomach begin to knot, his hands to sweat, and the succulent
feast before him was as tasteless as sawdust in his mouth.
He did not
begrudge the others their pleasure at table, however. It was their first decent
meal since leaving Gaudereaux, some six weeks before. Since then they had
subsisted on shipboard fare consisting of fish, potatoes, and apples. After the
shipwreck they were reduced to salted fish and berries. No, he did not begrudge
his friends their pleasure at all, he reflected.
After all had
eaten their fill they retired to a smaller room adjoining the dining hall. In
this room, Marcus knew, the family spent the long autumn and winter evenings in
quiet companionship. Although it was only September, there was a chill already
in the evening air that made this room more inviting than the garden on a
summer evening.
The fires were
already lit in the charcoal braziers, sending their warming glow out in welcome
to all those who entered. The upholstered couches of turquoise brocade enhanced
the aqua tiles in the sea themed fresco that adorned the white walls. The sea
theme was further carried out in the scattering of sea shells of creamy blue
and mauve on little black marble tables. On a stack of wall shelves containing
odd curios stood a seahorse carved out of pale lavender alabaster. The
draperies festooning the walls were of gauze of the same pale lavender,
producing the effect of a curtain veiling mysteries.
This room
always instilled a sense of peace in Marcus as the soothing blues and lavenders
calmed his spirit. Tonight he attempted to recapture the effect, but his nerves
were too jangled by what he must still face.
Silvia sensed
his preoccupation, but wisely did not pry. She concentrated her efforts on
making the newcomers feel welcome. It was soon clear that she already felt a
warm affection for Kyrene, sensing in the girl a maternal heart that shared an
affinity with her own. She noted the teasing banter between the girl and her
son, but made no comment. Cort amused her with his unabashed curiosity
regarding his new surroundings, and she and Justus both chuckled frequently at
his droll remarks.
Silvia looked
on Dag warily, unused to such a rugged man of great size, her male acquaintances
being limited to urbane Valerian patricians who dressed elegantly and spoke
eloquently. But after careful observation of the Trekur Lender she deemed him a
man of great heart and humor.
Elena puzzled
Silvia. She observed that the girl maintained a meek demeanor, yet there were
flashes of fire from her dark eyes on occasion that belied her outward mien.
Felix had apprised her of the history of his companions earlier in the day when
he had shared a quiet hour alone with his parents. Silvia’s tender heart ached
for the tragedy and suffering the young girl had endured, but what of her
character? Was it as sweet as her honeyed voice like a dove’s, or as stormy as
her flashing raven’s eyes?
Silvia kept
her thoughts to herself but wondered at the exact nature of the relationships
between the two foreign girls and her son. She would observe them intently, she
decided.
One by one
they retired to their rooms for a night’s sleep, until at last Marcus and Felix
remained with Justus and Silvia. Justus stirred the charcoals in the brazier,
which had died down to glowing embers. The blaze leaped up and he warmed his
hands over one of them. The others turned gratefully toward them to toast their
faces and sandaled toes.
“Well,” Justus
ventured. “You young men have been gone long on your secret mission; eight
months away, and not a word of explanation. Nay,” he raised his hand as Felix
opened his mouth to speak, “do not explain, for I would not have you break your
vows. It is men’s business, for men you have become.”
Felix sighed
in relief at his father’s words, and sank back on the cushioned couch. Marcus
felt awkward at accepting the hospitality of his friend’s father without giving
an account of their mission. It humbled him that a man could be so good as
Justus, and offer him shelter when he knew that Marcus’ own family was in
disgrace with the Empress. He silently thanked Dominio for the gift of good and
faithful friends.
“We could not
speak of it before your friends, Marcus,” Silvia interjected, “but we want to
assure you that your parents still live, although they remain in their prison.”
“Yes,” Justus
added. “Our slave girl Oliva has a friend in the Palace, and although it would
not be our usual custom to engage a slave in conversation, she has assured us
that the talk at the Palace is that they are alive.”
“That is good
news, for which I am grateful,” Marcus breathed, as some of the tension left
his body. “For my greatest fear is that they died in prison while I tarried on
my journey.”
“Have no fear
of that, young man,” Justus assured him.
“No, have no
fear, Marcus,” Silvia concurred.
Then a frown
disturbed her brow. She appeared to hesitate; then made a decision to speak.
“If there is
any real cause for alarm, it is not because of your parents, imprisoned though
they are.”
She paused.
Marcus turned an inquiring eye in her direction. Silvia pursed her lips, and
seemed to struggle within herself, then proceeded.
“You see,
Marcus, well, actually…I am concerned about Tullia.”
“Tullia!”
Marcus and Felix
exclaimed together. They frowned at one another, then turned back to Silvia.
“Yes, Tullia,”
Silvia said. “Have you any news of her?”
Marcus
chuckled bitterly.
“We saw her
three months ago in Lycenium, but apart from a tidbit of gossip one month later
in Gaudereaux we have heard nothing since.”
“Well, I have
heard news and it is most disturbing,” Silvia continued.
Marcus and
Felix shared a look of alarm before inquiring of Silvia what she meant.
“I have heard,
on very good authority,” she said, “that Tullia is all but betrothed to Decimus
Hadrianus, the son of old Gerontius. And that news is alarming, to state it
mildly.”
“Mother, why
do you say that?” Felix inquired. “Surely Tullia is free to engage her heart
where she chooses.”
Silvia sighed
and looked at the floor. She shook her head slightly before she answered.
“True, my
son,” she agreed in a tone of wistful longing. “But how I hoped she would
consent to wed
you
, Felix. I thought for a while that her affections
were engaged there. Then I saw how she appeared to favor Marcus. And even that
still would have pleased me. But to wed Decimus Hadrianus!” she raised her
voice slightly as though genuinely distressed.
Marcus did not
dare risk a glance at Felix as Silvia noted the pattern of Tullia’s changing
affections. He saw no wisdom in reopening wounds that had begun to heal. Yet he
was concerned by Silvia’s apparent distress.
“Why, madam,
what is wrong with Decimus Hadrianus? Surely his father is one of the most
powerful men in the Empire, a fact that cannot fail to please Tullia or her
parents,” he commented wryly.
“But Marcus,
it is his character that I fear!” Silvia cried as she threw her hands up in the
air.
So disturbed
was she that she rose from her couch and began to pace the floor, her hands clutching
the folds of her
stola
as if for warmth.
Felix and
Marcus now riveted their full attention on Silvia. Neither stirred a muscle,
and Marcus felt his mouth go dry in apprehension.
At last Silvia
ceased her pacing and came to an abrupt stop in front of the two young men.
“Decimus
Hadrianus,” she announced in a tone of the utmost solemnity, “is one of the
wealthiest, handsomest, and bravest young men in all the Valeriun Empire. He
has never known a need that was unmet, a whim that went unsatisfied, or a
desire that failed to be fulfilled. He is also one of the cruelest, most
dissolute, and, yes, I must say it,
evil
young men in all the world.”
Marcus gasped
at this statement and Felix rose to his feet as though jerked by invisible
strings. They hung on Silvia’s words.
“Decimus is
without honor, scruples, or any moral sense that is common to man, whether it
be the highest lord or the lowest slave. He lacks essential decency and cannot
possibly make a woman happy, although he is clever at hiding his true nature.
Only on closer acquaintance does one see that the easy smile masks a mocking
cruelty; his gallant charm is but a guise to seduce an innocent maiden, or take
her by force if she is unwilling. Yes, I have heard
that
as well. And
only on knowing him intimately does one see that his bravery and quickness to
offer a challenge is but an excuse to inflict injury and even death for the
mere sport of it. How he glories in the blood of others!”
And Silvia
buried her face in her hands and shuddered.
“But, Mother,
I don’t understand,” Felix questioned in a voice that shook with alarm. “How do
you know all of this? For his name meant nothing to me or to Marcus when we
heard of it in Gaudereaux, as we know nothing of the leading citizens of
Lycenium.”
“My sister Claudia
and her husband Sergius have long been acquainted with the Hadrianus family,”
Silvia explained. “I spent a month with them at their estate in Lycenium in
July and Claudia told me of this at that time. It was the talk of the city, the
possible betrothal of the Governor’s wild and debauched son to a young lady of
such beauty and refinement.”
“Then surely
someone will be sure to warn Tullia,” Marcus said with more hope than he felt.
“Or perhaps she will see the true nature of Decimus before plighting her
troth.”
Silvia sighed
and smiled wanly at Marcus.
“One can only
hope so, Marcus,” she half moaned. “But Decimus is so skilled at hiding his
true nature from the world that I fear Tullia will only discover his wickedness
once it is too late.”
He had been
granted an interview with his father before reporting to the Empress. Now as
Marcus stood once again before that massive door of heavy oak, he paused to
reflect on all that had occurred since last he saw Valerius.
In the eight
months since he left Valerium he had met loyal friends in Dag, Cort, and
Kyrene, been rejected by Tullia, and discovered his betrayal at the hands of
Felix, his dearest and most trusted companion. He had luxuriated in wealth
unimaginable in Koohyaram, and lived in the bleakest conditions on the
mysterious island. He had trekked across the frozen forests of the Land of the
Long Spears, and toiled in the blazing waste of the Desert of Dubar. He had
enjoyed pleasure and frivolity in Gaudereaux, and endured persecution and exile
in Trekur Lende. He had met sultans and slave girls, wise men and fools.
But the
greatest experience of them all was the secret of the Pearl. How naively he had
set out, he now saw, believing that such a jewel actually existed. And all he
had to do to fulfill his task was to find it, buy it, and bring it back to the
Empress with his quest completed. If only it had been as simple as it seemed…
For he saw now
as he reflected on the occurrences of the past months that although the Pearl
did not physically exist, it was truly a gem of great and terrible beauty. For in
the months since Marcus had given his heart to Alexandros and pledged himself
to advance the Kingdom of Heaven, he had known great joy in the fellowship of
those of a kindred spirit. He had tasted of the wonders of the gifts Dominio
gave to His children, in order to equip them for life in this world.
Yet he had
also had to let go of his manly pride that demanded a man’s vengeance at the
knowledge of Felix’s betrayal. Only death would have satisfied his pride for
the loss of his father’s position and estate, and the imprisonment of his
parents and their suffering at the hands of the Empress. And his losses had
cost him the love of Tullia. For had she not confessed that without a home to
offer her, she could not consent to marry him? And most ironic of all, he who
had dreamed of being a soldier was given the fabulous Sword Logos, but could
never use it in violence.
Yet he was not
alone in the price of possessing such a precious Pearl. For Dag it meant the
rejection of his people and the desertion of Fanchon. And he had to forgive
Cort for hiding his true identity and spare his life although required to take
that life by the vow of his tribe. For to kill Cort was forbidden by the laws
of the Kingdom of Heaven, so Dag had to reject the man he was so he could
become the man he was meant to be.
And Felix? For
Felix the Pearl meant the confession of his betrayal; the perfidious act of
treachery, all in the hope to win the love of a woman. Yet he must confess his
sin in order to be free of it, so all of his hidden jealousy of Marcus was laid
bare. Marcus still shuddered at the memory of the confession of those secret
feelings.
Yes, he
reflected, anyone could own the Pearl, but it cost all one had and all one was…
He entered his
father’s prison room. Surely, he looked thinner and paler than when Marcus last
saw him? And his glossy black curls now boasted more white strands than dark.
Marcus choked back the cry that threatened to erupt from his lips. How he
longed to cradle his father in his arms as he once used to cradle him.
Valerius
straightened from his bed at the sound of his son’s footsteps.
“My son!” he
exclaimed, his face illuminated by his joy.
For a long moment
they embraced, forgoing the usual hand clap on the shoulder. Truly, the rigors
of prison and separation from his beloved family had softened Valerius, Marcus
pondered. His father’s customary aloof detachment was now forgotten in a new
demonstrative tenderness.
“Come,”
Valerius patted the bed, “come and sit with me and tell me of your journey. Did
you fulfill the quest? Was your mission a success?”
Marcus
promptly sat by his father’s side, yet hesitated before speaking. To a man as
stern and practical as Valerius, how would the truth about the Pearl be
received?
Marcus cleared
his throat and whetted his lips. The familiar dryness of mouth afflicted him,
causing his voice to die in his throat. He shook his head in a firm
determination to recite his tale and be done with it.
“Success?
Well, Father, in a manner of speaking, yes and no. I must tell you that the
Pearl of Great Price which I was sent to find for the Empress does not exist;
and therefore, the possessing of it on which we had set all our hopes for
obtaining your freedom cannot be accomplished. In that sense, my mission was a
dismal failure,” Marcus moaned as he shook his head slowly.
Valerius had
been gazing intently at his son’s face, never blinking an eye or moving a
muscle. With this last statement uttered by Marcus, he slumped his shoulders
and a long drawn out sigh was wrung from his lips. A small cry of
disappointment escaped his throat before he quickly stifled it.
Valerius, ever
the great soldier, regained his composure and straightened his shoulders. He
looked Marcus firmly in the eye and nodded his head briefly.
“And the
reason it was a success? What is that, my son?” he asked in a voice that was
strong and betrayed none of the heartbreak he felt for hope raised and dashed.
“Well,
Father,” Marcus said unsteadily as his courage suddenly failed him. “I hardly
know how to begin,” he stammered.
“Try the
beginning, Marcus. It has always been of help to me,” Valerius advised, with a
return of his wry wit.
“Yes, sir,”
Marcus replied, as he stared at the floor.
And at the
floor he kept his eyes riveted as he related to his father the adventure he
experienced on his quest; the fabulous realms he had visited, the colorful
people he met, and the new friends he made along the way.
“And my
friends are here with me in Valerium,” Marcus said. “I do hope you have an
opportunity to meet them, for they have become dear to me indeed.”
Valerius
stared with the unblinking gaze of an eagle at his son and nodded his head
distractedly. He gave Marcus the look he used when he was a small boy and
attempted to hide something from his father. But Valerius had not been fooled
then, nor was he fooled now.
At last he put
the question to Marcus.
“What are you
holding back? What is it that you fear to tell me, my son?”
Fearing if he
hesitated any longer he would lose his courage, Marcus plunged in, heedless of
his words.
“There
is
a Pearl, but not the one the Empress seeks, and for which she sent me to find,”
Marcus blurted out.
He felt beads
of sweat trickle from his brow, down his face, and tickle his upper lip. It
tasted salty, the taste did not agree with him. He wiped his hands, now clammy
with sweat, on his robe. The gesture did not alleviate anything; his hands were
still wet.
Valerius
stared at him with a slightly furrowed brow.
“Well, if
there is a Pearl, why did you not bring it back for the Empress? May I remind
you that my freedom and that of your mother depend upon the success of your
quest? Why did you not bring it with you?” he demanded, uttered in the manner
of the General he once was.
“Because,”
Marcus stammered, “it is not a pearl. The Pearl of Great Price is only a name
for something much greater than a mere jewel.”
Valerius
peered at his son through eyes narrowed into slits. Marcus was aware that his
father was losing patience with him. He dreaded incurring his father’s wrath.
The fury of Valerius was legendary on the battlefield. To the men under his
command it was implacable, and they feared it more than any foe.
“What are you
talking about?” Valerius asked slowly with carefully measured syllables. Marcus
knew his father was attempting to keep his patience.
There was
nothing to do but tell him the truth.
“The Pearl of
Great Price is but a symbol, if you will,” Marcus began slowly, fixing his eyes
on the wall opposite.
“It represents
the Kingdom of Heaven, which all men must seek if they desire to truly live.
Anyone may buy it, but it will cost all your precious possessions, all you hold
dear.”
Marcus paused
to take a shaky breath. He dared not look at Valerius, who was ominously quiet.
“You see,
Father, man was not intended to live as we do. We were created in the image of
Dominio, the great and only God. We were meant to be His glory bearers, to rule
the earth. But we challenged His authority, and by doing so rejected Him; and
we fell into the darkness of our own way. Blind and confused we wandered
through this world alone, trusting to our own instincts, which were not wise or
good. We began to envy one another, hate one another, and go to war in order
that we might rule one another, and take from each other what did not belong to
us. Deceiving ourselves that we were gods ourselves, we went our way practicing
evil, until our divinely created nature became corrupted, and we lost our
inheritance as sons of God.
“But it
grieved Dominio to see what we had become. So He sent His only Son, Alexandros,
to come into this world and rescue us, to save us from ourselves. He stood in
our place in judgment, took the punishment for treason that was rightly ours.
He laid down His own life for our sakes, that He might give back to us life
everlasting. For anyone who follows Him, He will give life beyond the confines
of this world; a life where we will be reunited with Dominio, and be His
children forevermore.”
Marcus paused
for breath. The rush of his words had left him shaky and he clamped his
trembling hands together. He buried them in the folds of his robe, where his
father could not see them.
Valerius at
last broke the silence.
“What does
this Kingdom of Heaven you speak of have to do with a Pearl?” he asked in a low
monotone, devoid of any inflection or emotion.
“Well,” Marcus
cleared his throat and kept his eyes fixed on the wall.
“The Kingdom
of Heaven is Dominio’s government. It consists of laws, just as any earthly
kingdom. But the laws of the Kingdom of Heaven are intended to spread justice
and righteousness: laws such as, forgive your enemy, do good to those who hate
you, give to those in need, do to others what you would have them do to you.”
Here Valerius
interrupted with a sneering laugh.
“But that is
madness!” he scoffed. “Who could ever forgive an enemy, or do good to those who
hate you? Such is contrary to our very nature!”
“Yes!” Marcus
interjected, “the nature that fell into darkness when we rejected Dominio. We
turned from His voice, and listened to other voices. Therein lies the problem.”
Marcus then
related to Valerius the Great Rebellion, and told of Leon who challenged
Dominio with one third of the Heavenly Host and was banished from Heaven.
“And they fell
to earth like stars from the sky. And like stars they dazzled us with their
light. They spoke lies to us that appealed to our fallen nature. ‘Kill your
enemy.’ ‘Repay with evil those who hate you.’ ‘Give no thought to the poor, but
take what you want from those who rightfully possess it.’
“You see,
Father, we became like them, to such a degree that even our laws have become
their
laws. Look at our Empire: we invade other lands, kill their rulers, enslave
their peoples and take whatever we fancy. Can this be right? Is this just? No!
“And I have
found on my journey, that whatever a man worships, that is what he becomes. I
met a man who worships wealth: he lay in wait for me on the road to kill me so
he could take the Pearl if I found it. I knew a maiden who worships frivolity:
she became a fool who forsook Dominio so she could pursue her folly. I
witnessed an entire tribe who worship a lie reject the Truth when confronted
with it, and exile on pain of death the man who sought to set them free.”
After a pause
to steady his voice Marcus continued. The only sound in the room was labored
breathing from Valerius, as if he was beset by some powerful emotion.
“You ask how
the Kingdom of Heaven is like a Pearl. I have found that when one is confronted
with a difficult choice, that the decision can be painful to make. I had to
decide only a few months ago whether to repay one who had wronged me, or to
forgive him and release him from my wrath. I confess it was not easy, and I
wrestled with it for a long time.
“But the anger
began to gnaw at me, bringing me even more pain. Just as a clam is irritated by
a grain of sand that slips into its shell, I began to perceive that the anger
was something I was never intended to keep. I had to let it go, and allow Dominio
to fill me with His Spirit in that wound that hurt so deeply, so He could heal
it and replace the anger with His love for the one who wronged me.
“When we yield
to His laws instead of our own fallen nature, He covers that painful wound with
the glory of His Spirit, and we become like Him; even as the clam covers the
irritant with the coating that produces a luster that becomes a precious
object. But to follow the Kingdom of Heaven and obey it, will cost us
everything we are and all that we have. It is our Pearl of Great Price.”