Cantate Lamentationem

Quondam Urbis Magnae

Veronica Humilius didn’t mind the mud that clung to her sandals and the hem of her dress as she bent down to collect a bunch of purple flowers. Her blond hair fell down her shoulders and back as she plucked the hardy mountain flowers with ease, her thin and rapidly blossoming frame bent over in her labor. She stood up, staring out in the evening sun at the glowing city across Lake Copiah.

Carxandria shone in the sunset, its roofs glinting in the rays of the sun and its vast expanse stretching from the tip of the peninsula to its connection to the main landmass. Across Lake Copiah, many boats sailed its length, mostly fishing as they prepared for the evening's catch. A few transport vessels carried nobility from the city to their villas and, on occasion, other vessels carrying soldiers could be seen.

Further off, a large, stone bridge connected the peninsula’s edge to the land beyond and boats sailed beneath its great height, moving from the poorer districts out onto the lake to take part in the fishing. Veronica switched her gaze from the lake and its beauty to the fields about her. They were strewn with the purple mountain flowers she had been picking, almost as far as she could see. Her home, the Humilius Villa, could be seen further down the mountainside near the bay. From it, a small figure could be seen trudging uphill toward her. She sighed in annoyance and continued picking.

It wasn’t long before her younger brother reached her. “More flowers, Veronica? You already picked flowers for the house.”

“These aren’t for the house, Ignatius. I’m just…picking them.”

Ignatius, a young boy with blond hair and an equally thin frame, stood puzzled before he frowned. “You are going to the camp again, aren’t you?.”

“And why should I not?”

“Well…I know Lumina would say it isn’t appropriate. And you know Orin would get very angry if he knew you were visiting the enemy.”

“They aren’t my enemy,” said Veronica, brushing her hair over her shoulder with a toss of her head and stooping to pick more flowers.

“Are you sure? I thought they were…”

Ignatius trailed off, staring at the lake in some confusion. As a fourteen-year-old and one who was often in a dazed state, it was easy to confuse and distract him. “Come on,” said Veronica. “You can come with me if you like and protect me.”

This cheered him and his pale face lit up with a smile. “Alright. I like some of them…but not all.”

Veronica shook her head and put an arm around his gangly shoulders. Her other hand held the bouquet of purple flowers. They made their way down the mountain and to a path that ran about the lake. Over a single rise in the mountain, a wooden fort came into view. It was not large in size, only able to accommodate around one hundred troops. It was surrounded by a wooden stockade with a ditch in front of it and, as they neared the entrance, a guard above the gate hailed them. “Ho! Welcome back, Veronica!”

“Hello, Brutus!” called Veronica, waving up at him. They walked across the wooden drawbridge and into the fort filled with Aquillan soldiers.

They walked across the wooden drawbridge and into the fort filled with Aquillan soldiers. They stood around fires, eating and drinking their evening meals and preparing either for the night watch or for bed. Several of the soldiers called out to Veronica, mostly in cheerful greetings but some in rude catcalls. She ignored these and waved to those who were polite. Ignatius followed close behind, his eyes darting about in confusion.

Veronica reached a large fire where a man was stirring a pot. He had a kind, round face and was fairly young. His face lit up when he saw her and he waved his stirring spoon at her. “Veronica! What brings you here?”

“I just wanted to visit. Oh, and these flowers are for you. In case you needed them to make another compress for your leg. How is it?”

“Much better!” he took the flowers and put them on a bench. He stuck his leg out to show the bandage around his shin. “You were right, those flowers do have a wonderful effect. They have helped the leg heal much faster.”

She smiled sweetly. “I’m so glad.” She then glanced into the pot. “What is for supper tonight?”

He went back to stirring the mess of roots and vegetables within. “It’s communal. Whatever the men could get their hands on since our ration supply is late…again.”

She glanced in and sniffed. “It smells decent.”

He looked up with a grin to impress. “I can make anything taste good with just a few spices.”

She nodded then turned to Ignatius. “Don’t wander too far. We have to get home soon.”

He looked at her, his large eyes alight. “Can I go on top of the walls?”

Veronica glanced at the soldier stirring the pot. “Can he go up there, Portus?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “There are guards, so he should be safe.”

Ignatius ran to the stairs as a group of five men approached the fire and called out greetings to Veronica. One frowned at her in annoyance. She greeted each one in turn by name. She sat by the fire with them, talking animatedly, asking them about their day and if they had received any news from their families. They offered her a bowl of soup which she turned down. “I’m fine. I’ll be eating later with my brother.”

“Who is your brother?” asked one of the soldiers.

The angry one snorted. “He’s captain of the guard. The one planning the defenses of the city against us.”

Veronica nodded slowly. “Yes…he is. But that is no matter between us.”

“It should be!”

Portus stepped in. “If you can’t be friendly, go eat your meal somewhere else.”

The man stood up and threw one last glare at her. “She’s the enemy…you know it.”

Another of the men called out as he walked away. “And so terrifying!”

The group laughed and Veronica smiled awkwardly. The truth of his words could not fully be ignored. These men around her were, by all accounts, her enemies. She couldn’t help but like them though. They were so friendly. Portus shook his head. “Ignore him. He just has guard duty tonight.”

“Did you bring us anything?” asked one of the soldiers.

Veronica shook her head. “Not today. But perhaps tomorrow, I will bring something from the kitchens.”

Portus shook his ladle at the man. “Don’t go begging for scraps from a noblewoman.”

“Why not?” he responded. “I’m just a poor dog from the slums of Aquilla. I’ve always begged!”

“Not as an Aquillan soldier, you won’t!”

“Veronica!”

Veronica finally registered the voice she had thought she could hear calling out to her. She looked up at the wall at Brutus on sentry duty. “Your brother…he’s acting strange. You’d better come up.”

“Oh no,” she muttered and rose hurriedly to climb the steps to the wall top. She found her brother curled against the wooden rampart and breathing heavily, his head in his arms. Brutus gestured to him. “I tried to help him but…”

Ignatius flinched away from him, staring up in disgust and scooching away from the proffered hand. Veronica shook her head. “I’m so sorry. He does this sometimes. We aren’t sure what is wrong with him.”

Veronica moved forward slowly and held out her arms. “Ignatius. It’s alright. I’m here.”

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Ignatius shook his head. “I can’t stand to look.”

Brutus frowned angrily at him. “What?”

“It’s OK,” said Veronica, keeping her eyes on Ignatius.

He shook his head, glancing over the rampart from his seated position, across the water of Lake Copiah at the city of Carxandria. “It keeps getting worse. Getting clearer.”

“All is well,” she said, pulling him into her embrace. “We will go home.”

“What is wrong with him?” asked Brutus. “What did he mean?”

“I don’t know,” said Veronica. “I’m sorry.”

They descended the steps and proceeded to the gate. A call from behind halted Veronica in her tracks. “Wait! Veronica!” Portus ran up and stopped awkwardly in front of her. “You are leaving already?”

“I must. My brother is not feeling well.”

“Oh…I’m sorry to hear that. I’d help you back to your house but…I have duties.”

“I understand.” She smiled at him and took his hand. “I’ll be back tomorrow if I can.”

He smiled in return. “Good. Thank you for the flowers…you know, for the leg.”

“Of course. Goodbye Portus.”

“Goodbye.”

Veronica exited the fort with Ignatius close by her side. He was able to walk on his own but she kept a close eye on him. He occasionally glanced toward the city in worry but didn’t fill with panic. Whatever he had seen was gone. “Are you alright?”

Ignatius shook his head. “I will be.”

They crested the rise and began the descent toward their home. It was a picturesque villa on the slopes beside the lake. The servants and tenants were finishing their work and the women were leaving for their homes at the end of their day's work, their children tagging along beside them. She noticed a boat docked at the pier connected to their garden and groaned. She stopped in her tracks when a man emerged from the doorway and stood, staring at her with hands on his hips. Ignatius noticed the figure as well. “Look! Orrin’s home earlier than usual.”

***

“I told you, the fort is dangerous. They are our enemies! Do you know how irresponsible and dangerous it is for a noblewoman to enter a camp full of soldiers?!”

Veronica picked at the food on her plate and slumped a little further in her chair. Her older brother Orrin sat at the head of the table beside her and, on the opposite side, Ignatius continued to eat in silence. Orrin, her older brother by many years, had dark hair, unlike the rest of the family. His stern, soldier’s face glared at her and his calloused hands gripped his knife and fork without using them. Also unlike his siblings, he had not kept the traditional Aquillan name given to him at birth by their parents. Orranus had chosen to change his name to Orrin out of spite.

“They wouldn’t harm me,” said Veronica softly. “Or…most of them wouldn’t.”

Orrin shook his head. “They are under orders. They only like you because you bring them gifts and, if commanded to, they would turn on you and do Cause knows what! It makes me sick to just think about it.”

“Then don’t,” she said. “They aren’t like that. They wouldn’t do anything. I’m friends with some of them.”

Orrin’s face grew an even darker shade. “Aquillan’s aren’t our friends. They are heathens and bloodthirsty people masquerading as civilized men.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Say the same thing when they come for our city to murder and rape you!” Orrin yelled, slamming his fists on the table.

Veronica dropped her fork and looked into her lap, trying not to cry. Orrin’s temper had become worse with time, his hatred of Aquillans along with the threat of an invasion made him constantly angry. A silence stretched between them as his rigid posture slumped and he began to cut into his meat with an angry growl. Veronica gained control of her voice. “How was work today?”

“Tiring. The king is working against my every request to revitalize the military with state-issued training. He doesn’t like the thought of an armed populace. So, I’m left to defend a city with a small garrison army.”

“Maybe he thinks our brother Damianus will succeed in his mission to broker peace with the Aquillans.”

“He knows damn well he sent Damianus on a fool's errand…not that he cares about the results. I’m fairly certain he sent our brother there so he would stop his pestering. Our family is the only one that seems to care about the future of our city.”

“Maybe you could talk to the prince? He could convince the king…”

“No one has seen the prince in three days. He’s been with his ho…friends.”

Orrin glanced guiltily at her as he altered his statement. “Don’t ask me about work. Everything I do is unpleasant, especially the leaders I work with.”

Veronica nodded and ate in silence. She thought she could hear a drumming noise in her ears but didn’t pay close attention until Ignatius looked up and asked. “What is that?”

They all listened and Orrin glared angrily. “It's probably another one of those barges from that cult religion, the Followers of Change.”

Veronica perked up. “Really? I haven’t seen one up close before.”

She quickly rose from the table and ignored the yells from her brother. “Veronica, wait! It might not be appropriate!”

Veronica stepped out into the back garden and to the balcony wall overlooking their personal pier. There was indeed a large ship floating past them. A drummer kept time as men rowed on a lower deck. On its top deck, a statue stood at its prow, surrounded by torches and candles. It was the Lord of Change, unmistakable with his many arms extended out with gifts within. Followers were feasting at the feet of the statue, most at a low table across the deck. Two men, in a half-dressed state, appeared to be wrestling on the deck as a fight ensued. At the stern, separated from the rest, a pair of men sat. One was in ornate garments and, even from this distance, his golden mask shone brightly in the light of the torches. Beside him was an older man dressed in the Aquillan garb of a senator, with a toga and tunic.

“Come away from there,” said Orrin as he came up behind her. “Go back inside.”

“Where are they going?”

“To one of the noble estates along the coast no doubt. Many of them are in the cult and host the parties.”

“But that is an Aquillan on deck. Who could it be?”

Orrin glared at the ship as it passed by them and headed down the coastline. “Does it matter? It doesn’t surprise me that the Aquillans are talking to those fanatics. Now, go inside.”

Veronica obeyed and noticed, upon entering, that Ignatius was still at the table, staring down at his plate with a blank expression. “What is it, Ignatius? You didn’t want to see them?”

“I don’t like them,” he replied quietly. “They scare me.”

“As well they should,” said Orrin. “They will be the undoing of our society. Ever since they became a legal religion fifteen years ago, our society has degraded.”

“Surely they aren’t the reason for things getting worse,” said Veronica.

“They are the result, if anything else,” responded Orrin, returning to his food. “I don’t want you to go anywhere near those men. And don’t watch them as they pass. Some of their boats are…not proper…to watch.” He glanced over at Ignatius. “That goes for you too.”

***

Ignatius wouldn’t have bothered to look, even if he was interested. He could not look at the ships with the cult members without shuddering. Often, he couldn’t understand what he was seeing on the deck…strange shapes and figures in twisted and unnatural forms. Other times, it was just corpses. None of them looked pleasant in any form.

He hadn’t been sleeping well for the past weeks. Things he had rarely seen now began to appear with greater frequency and clarity. Even now, he tried to ignore the glow coming from out his window. He buried his face into his pillow until he felt it difficult to breathe. Rising from his bed, he wandered out of his room, avoiding looking at the window as he left. The stairs creaked under his feet and he winced at the noise. He knew his brother Orrin would have heard him. He only would have a minute or two alone before his brother found him and sent him back to bed.

He pattered outside to the garden and took deep gulps of air, trying to clear his head. The glow was still on his face, bright and orange. He knew no one else would see it. No one else ever saw what he did. He retreated further into the garden, down toward the pier to avoid his brother finding him for as long as possible. He ignored the dilapidated and moldy steps leading down to the pier, knowing it was only an illusion. Even with one step completely broken, he knew it was still there and stepped onto empty space with ease. His vision cleared to reveal the steps swept and unbroken.

He sat on a post and put his head in his hands. He kept his eyes closed as he listened to the water crash against the land. A minute passed as he simply took in the smell and sounds of Lake Copiah in the night. Crickets, waves, mud, seaweed, distant sounds of the city, and wildlife across the road and fields. The itch to look began to build. He didn’t like to, but inevitably, his morbid curiosity always overcame his fear. He looked at the water, watching the glow on it and seeing the flames leap high in distorted patterns across the waves. “Ignatius.”

He started and turned around to see Orrin, sword sheathed at his side, staring at him with concern. Ignatius blinked. “Yes?”

“Are you well?”

Ignatius turned back to look at the water and saw it dark, faint lights glimmering across it from the distant city of Carxandria. He looked up and saw the city in its usual condition. He breathed a sigh of relief and stood up. “I am well. I needed air.”

Orrin sighed in annoyance and put an arm around his shoulders. “Come back to bed. It isn’t safe to wander around at night by the water.”

Ignatius allowed himself to be led meekly back inside. He could feel his brother's irritation and shivered under his firm grip. As he was led to his bedroom door, he looked up at his brother. “I’m sorry…”

He stopped as he saw his brother's face, bloody and scarred in the faint light of a candle. He gasped and looked away. His brother’s grip loosened as he sighed again. His voice softened. “I know I’m not the most patient with you. I don’t understand what you go through or what is going on. But I do care about you. I would die to protect you.”

“You would die to protect our nation,” said Ignatius.

“Yes…I would. But my family would come first. Trust me.”

Ignatius nodded but didn’t look at his brother. The grip tightened on his shoulder. “Look at me, Ignatius.”

Ignatius hesitated but obeyed his brother and saw, to his relief, that his brother's face was normal again: stern and uncompromising. “I love you, Ignatius. Don’t doubt that.”

“I don’t doubt you.”

“Good. Now to bed.”

Ignatius lay in bed, struggling to fall asleep again. His back was to the window of his room and, when he opened his eyes, the bright orange light was against his wall again. He didn’t bother fighting this time. He rolled around to face the window and saw a familiar sight, in clearer detail this time. Now, there were boats on the lake: warships hurling flaming boulders against the city walls. Past the water and the ships on it, the city of Carxandria lay under siege. Its towers stood out in dark contrast against the city burning below.

The eternal city was going up in smoke and flame.