The Chosen Prince Part 2

FRESH FROM THE BATHS, his muscles released from the strain of running by hot water and a brisk ma.s.sage, Alexos leaves the gymnasium and cuts through the agora, headed in the direction of the palace. But he leaves the path as he nears the broad, gra.s.sy lawn that slopes down to the river, hoping the lady mistress will finally have relented and let his brother come out.

Alexos has known her all his life. Long before she was put in charge of Teo's nursery, she had care of Alexos. But she was a different woman then: younger, more energetic, and completely subservient to the king. Anything Alexos wanted to do, any childish comfort or luxury he desired, was forbidden because "your father wouldn't approve." The lady mistress always seemed quite sorry to refuse. But her marching orders were clear: Alexos must not be pampered. He mustn't be spoiled with sweet words and motherly attentions. He must grow up to be strong and independent.

All these restrictions flew right out the window when Teo came along. No one cared whether he was spoiled or not. Teo wasn't heir to the throne; he wasn't the chosen one. He was just a sweet little boy who'd been abandoned by everyone except his brother (and the women of the nursery, of course). So whatever the lady mistress had been forced to withhold from Alexos, she has lavished on Teo.

But in her new motherly guise, the lady mistress still tends toward excess. So every time Teo sneezes, he must be wrapped in blankets and put to bed like an invalid. And judging by the length of this latest disappearance, he must have sneezed twice, perhaps even three times.

Ah, but there he is, waiting at the edge of the river with his favorite nursemaid, Carissa. He spies Alexos and runs to meet him, arms upraised. Alexos catches him on the fly and up Teo goes. He's flipped in the air, swung in circles upside down, righted, and hugged. Then they take hands and join Carissa by the river.

She is all smiles, as usual. Carissa is pretty and she knows it.

"Your Grace," she says, "Prince Teo very much wants to go fishing. But I told him you may not have the time for it. I didn't promise him anything."

"Of course I have time for it. I've missed him like mad. Where have you been hiding, you little rascal?"

"Lady Mistress said I had a fever. But I didn't really. Just a watery nose."

"As I suspected. Carissa, you can go back and a.s.sure the mistress that Teo is in excellent hands. We'll be back in time for supper, which I perfectly well remember is uncommonly early, and you may set a place for me."

"Yes, Your Grace," Carissa says with another pretty smile and a graceful curtsy. But already the boys have turned away from her.

"Shall we stay here or take out the skiff?"

"The skiff!" Teo says. "Oh, please!"

Alexos doesn't really have the energy for rowing after running six miles as hard as he can go. But he can't disappoint his brother. So they put their gear into the boat and cast off, heading for the usual spot, the section upstream where the river widens. The current is slow there, the water almost gla.s.sy smooth. It's a bit of work to get there, but after that it's all floating and fishing.

While Alexos rows hard against the current, Teo stares lazily at the pa.s.sing landscape, which is not in the least picturesque. Everything is brown and dry. The crops are withering in the fields and half the trees are dead. It hasn't rained in months, not since the spring floods. Now, day after day the sun beats down on hard-packed earth, causing it to crack and split. The winds, when they come at all, catch the dust and spin it up into the sky. It has been the worst summer Alexos can recall.

It occurs to him with a stab of sorrow that his brother has never seen a bright green forest. Alexos himself can barely remember how it used to be. Suddenly his sadness turns to alarm. Why, after hundreds of years, have things gotten so much worse so quickly? It has to mean something. It's bound to be important. But he's afraid to explore the subject any further, afraid of what he might find.

"Alexos?" Teo says, interrupting his thoughts. "Did you see me there this afternoon? Carissa took me to watch you practice."

"What? No. I hardly even noticed there was a crowd. I'm sorry, Teo. I would have come over to see you."

"That's all right. It was very exciting."

"That's good, then. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

They've arrived at their fishing spot. Alexos ships the oars and starts baiting Teo's hook.

"Carissa says you're going to run in the festival race."

"That's true."

"And I get to go this year. I just know you're going to win."

Alexos sighs and hands the pole to his brother. Teo takes it and carefully drops the baited hook into the water. Then Alexos starts on his own.

"Don't get your hopes up, little man," he says. "You'll just be disappointed."

"No, I won't. Carissa says you're the fastest thing on two legs."

"Teo, look at me. I want to explain something."

"What?"

Alexos drops his own pole in the water. "I'm a good runner for a boy my age. But I'm not 'the fastest thing on two legs' and I can't seriously compete with experienced athletes twice my age. So when someone I love expects more from me than I can possibly deliver, that doesn't make me happy and proud; it makes me sad. Don't you see?"

Teo squints thoughtfully and furrows his brow.

"All right then, what if I said: 'I am absolutely sure you can row this boat up the river all by yourself'-how would that make you feel?"

"But you know I can't do that."

"There you go. My point exactly. And now let me tell you something else: I don't want to run in that race. Father is making me do it. And I'm afraid I'll fail horribly and make a fool of myself in front of all those people. So that's hard for me and I don't really want to talk about it anymore. All right?"

Teo nods and frowns, so serious. Alexos leans over and raises his pole, which is dragging in the water.

"I wish we could do this all the time," Teo says. "Just be like this together, you and me."

"So do I."

"But you have important things to do."

"Yes, but nothing I care as much about as being here with you."

Teo gives a happy little sigh. "I know."

A boat pa.s.ses them, headed downstream. They've seen this particular fisherman before and he clearly knows who they are. He smiles at them and bows from the waist as he rows by. Teo waves.

"Alexos?" he says after a while. "Let's talk about when you're king."

This is an old game Alexos started ages ago-or it feels like ages anyway, though it can't have been much more than a year. It embarra.s.ses him now, but Teo loves it.

"Remember, you said I shouldn't be the royal fisherman, because that wasn't important enough for a prince? You said I should either be your chancellor or the commander of your army."

"Of course I remember."

"Well, I've decided to command the army."

"Why? You seemed so keen on being chancellor. And you could stay here in the palace and not have to sleep in a tent and be cold all winter."

"But you'll be down at the borderlands and I want to be there with you. We could share the same tent."

"Oh, we would, definitely. But maybe I won't have to go there at all. Maybe things will have changed by then."

"Because you'll go up to Olympus and talk to Zeus and make him be nice to us again? That's what Carissa says."

"Oh, dear G.o.ds!" Alexos is horrified. "Let me tell you something, man-to-man: Carissa is a very pretty, kindhearted girl-but not everything she says is true."

"Oh."

"And while I'm flattered that she thinks so highly of me, she's really just spinning a lot of harebrained fantasies. So whenever she tells you something like that-that I'm the fastest runner in the kingdom of Arcos or I'm going to fly up to Olympus and admonish the G.o.ds-you might want to ask me first before you start believing what she says. All right?"

"All right." Then after a brief, thoughtful moment, "So it's not true about the G.o.ddess either?"

"I don't know, Teo. What did she tell you? I can only imagine."

Teo blushes.

"As I expected. Look, we got a late start, and I'm tired, and the fish aren't biting. Give me your pole and let's head back; I'll tell you about it as we go." Teo reluctantly hands over his pole and Alexos stores them both away and puts the oars back in the water. He could just float downstream now, but it's easy rowing with the current, and he did promise to get back in time for supper.

"So here's the real, true story, little man. Long ago, on the day I was born, Father and the priests and the augur took me to the temple of Athene, as is traditional."

"I know that part. Carissa- I mean, I've heard it before."

"Of course. Everyone has. And everyone thinks that while I was there, the G.o.ddess gave me all sorts of magical gifts. But she didn't, Teo. She just gave me a big, hard job to do. And I have to do it all by myself, without the help of special powers. To be honest, I'm not exactly sure what it involves; I expect Athene will tell me when the time comes. That's not very exciting, I'm afraid. Absolutely no flying to Olympus or magical wings on my heels."

Teo shrugs. "She still chose you. That's exciting."

"I suppose it is. And now that I think about it, there is one other thing. I'm only guessing, since I was a little baby at the time and can't remember anything at all. But I see how things have been arranged in my life, and it makes sense."

"What?" Teo has perked up again.

"Well, the G.o.ddess Athene is, as you know, famously merciful and kind. And I think she must have looked down on me that day-so tiny and defenseless, you know, with all that hard work ahead of me-and felt pity in her heart. So she changed her mind and gave me one gift after all. What do you suppose it was?"

Teo cannot imagine.

"It was you, Teo. The G.o.ddess gave me you."

"Oh," Teo says with a contented sigh. "That was very nice of her."

"Yes, I think so too."

4.

THE MORNING HAS FOLLOWED the usual schedule: mathematics, literature, poetics, then music. But in no other way has it been routine. The boys are inattentive; the masters are distracted. They all keep glancing at the door or gazing out windows as if expecting news to arrive at any moment. This is pointless, of course. They aren't likely to hear anything till midday at least. And since this is the final round, there will probably be some formalities afterward-speeches of congratulations, instructions on where and when to a.s.semble for the race, how they will enter in procession-which will take even more time.

But the formalities would only apply to the eleven winners, the ones who will run on festival day (Alexos, who already has his place, being the twelfth). So the longer they wait for Leander, the better the news is likely to be.

And no one wants Leander to succeed more than Alexos does. But his reasons are complicated, a web of dark and light, genuine good wishes woven with his own deep fears: What if Leander fails to win a place, and after his brave struggle and well-earned glory, he has to sit in the stands on festival day while Alexos gets to run? Far worse, what if he comes in twelfth-but too bad, that place is already reserved this year?

This thought is so appalling that Alexos has been seriously thinking about arranging some kind of accident, conveniently breaking a leg and thereby opening up that twelfth spot. The more he thinks about it, the more appealing the idea becomes, regardless of how Leander fares in today's trials. It would be such an easy way out of an impossible situation. Why did he not think of this before?

He'd have to plan it carefully, though; it mustn't look suspicious. And it would have to be a serious fall, enough to do real damage without causing his actual death. He's mentally working out the details, not paying the least attention to his cla.s.smates (two of whom are trying, in an unfocused sort of way, to play a duet on their lyres), when his thoughts are rudely interrupted by the music master's voice.

"Markos! Timon! Stop!" The master has covered his ears and is scowling as if in physical pain. "You offend the very G.o.ds with that disgusting noise-I will not dignify it with the name of music."

Markos and Timon fall silent as ordered. They know their playing wasn't that bad. It's just the master's way of breaking early for the midday meal. He, like everyone else, is too nervous to concentrate today.

In summer they eat outside on the covered porch, the whole cla.s.s at a single long table. For Alexos this has always been the hardest moment of the day. Sitting together like this, free of masters, free to talk, the boys at their ease, he is made keenly aware that he really isn't part of the group. When they speak to him, it's always with forced politeness. But most of the time they don't.

It's even more uncomfortable now that they talk of nothing but Leander and the race. Alexos is never mentioned; you'd think he wasn't running at all. So he sits quietly in his usual spot at the far end of the south bench, tearing off bits of bread and putting them in his mouth. He isn't the least bit hungry.

"What should we do if he makes the finals?" t.i.tus asks. "Throw him into the horse trough?"

"Don't be stupid," Delius says. "We carry him around the track with a chamber pot for a crown."

"No, I think t.i.tus is right. We should throw him in the trough."

"But what if he doesn't make the cut?" Felix says.

That brings the conversation to a halt. It's not that they haven't considered this possibility. But by the time Leander made it to the finals, it had come to seem inevitable that he'd go all the way. It would be bad luck even to suggest otherwise.

"I say we throw him in the trough anyway," t.i.tus says.

And then Delius spots Leander far in the distance, ambling across the field at an easy pace, looking down at his feet as he goes. He seems to be in no hurry, kind of thoughtful, lazy, perhaps even a little bored. When he's near enough, they see he isn't smiling.

This is exactly how Leander would act if he had lost: casual, easy, dignified. He wouldn't have the heart to joke about it, but nor would he show them his pain.

"Oh, no!" Gaius says.

"Don't jump to conclusions," Markos says. "He's probably just tired from the race."

"Yeah, probably."

Alexos feels sick. He's back to thinking about falling down stairs.

The master of arms takes a step forward. The boys hadn't heard him come out onto the portico, hadn't even known he was there. He'd probably been standing nearby all along, waiting like the rest of them. Now the other masters emerge from various doorways. Together they watch his approach.

At last Leander reaches the porch and flops down on his end of a bench. He is red-faced and slick with sweat. He looks around at the shocked, expectant faces, raises his brows, shrugs, and gives a brave, false smile. "Oh, well," he says.

There is a deep silence in which all of them search for comforting things to say, then wonder if some sort of joke might be better, more in keeping with Leander's style, less humiliating. They gaze down at the table, at their hands, at their feet. They nod silently, in a sad, "Oh, well" sort of way.

But Alexos continues to look directly at Leander. So he is the only one to notice when Leander starts to lose control. There's a twitching at the corners of his mouth, a pursing of the lips. And now Alexos is leaning in, drilling him with his eyes, daring him to keep it up, knowing he can't do it.