The Chosen Prince Part 6

"We made a mistake, blast you! We even sensed at the time that something was wrong. But we wanted so badly for him to be the one that we turned a blind eye to the inconsistencies. Now I'm not going to compound that mistake by making another one."

There is a silence. Alexos, frozen, holds his breath.

"It'll break the boy's heart, you know-after all he's been through."

The king grunts.

"Perhaps if you waited a while, gave him a chance to fully recover-"

"No! I've given it more than enough time and thought. I told you, it's done. Teo is my heir." There is a long pause. Then, "I sometimes think it would have been kinder if the boy had died."

"Oh, Your Highness!"

"You think I don't grieve over what's happened to him? Of course I do! He was such a strong, handsome boy. Now he's ruined. And as I have another son who is perfectly sound, it's the only reasonable decision. It's best for the kingdom."

"Prince Matteo is very young. What is he, four?"

"Every heir to every throne was once very young. He'll have a regent if he inherits before he comes of age."

Another long pause.

"When will you tell them?"

"This afternoon. Then I have to get back to the army and Teo must start his training. He's a terrible baby for a boy his age. All he wants to do is fish. I'll see that Antonio takes him in hand."

"And Alexos?"

The king heaves a deep, carrying sigh.

"He will just have to take it like a man."

10.

TEO STANDS AT THE window of his sleeping chamber gazing down at the gra.s.sy slope below, the shade trees on the bank, the river, the little skiff that is always tied up at the bank-and all of it reminds him of Alexos. He misses his brother so much!

Everyone says he's better now. So why won't he come out of his rooms or let anyone in?

The dragon snores have already started, but Teo has learned to wait until they've grown more regular, without the occasional waking snorts that tell him she's still settling in for her nap. It'll be soon, though. Then he can sneak out.

Below, a figure has just come out onto the lawn. He walks with a cane, moving with an awkward, jerky motion. He's dressed in an ankle-length tunic, the kind old men wear, but Teo doesn't think this person is old. His hair is black, not gray. And he wears it long, pulled back and tied with a ribbon at the nape of the neck, a young man's style.

Teo holds his breath. The fellow is moving too fast; he's going to fall. And sure enough, he almost does, but then he manages to catch himself in time. He stands for a moment, trying to compose himself. Then he looks around, probably to see if anyone noticed. And for the first time Teo catches a glimpse of his face. . . .

He races down toward the river, his heart nearly bursting with joy. He runs so fast that he trips and goes tumbling down the slope. But he just laughs, picks himself up, and keeps running till he's reached the fishing place.

Alexos is sitting on a tree stump facing the river, a gold-headed cane across his knees. He is very still. Teo decides to surprise him. He circles around and with a joyful leap suddenly appears before his brother-arms spread wide, a bright expectant smile on his face.

But how strange! The boy he sees before him, while he looks very much like Alexos, is at the same time altogether different: gaunt, wizened, brooding.

"Alexos?" Teo asks.

"More or less, little man."

"Carissa says you're better now-but you look sad."

"Do I?" His voice sounds empty.

"Yes. You look different."

Alexos turns his head away.

This isn't at all what Teo expected. It's probably his own fault. He should have said how much he'd missed Alexos, how he'd waited outside the sickroom all those afternoons, and how glad he is to see him again. That would have been so much nicer than saying he looks different and sad.

"We could go fishing," he tries, thinking that might cheer his brother up. "We can take the boat out." When Alexos doesn't move, just continues to stare at the moving water, Teo skips over and climbs into the skiff. The poles are already there, as they have been since the last time they went out on the river. There's no fresh bait, but Teo hasn't thought of that. He just looks longingly at his brother. "Come on. It'll be jolly."

He hears a little groan then-or was it a sob? Teo doesn't see any tears, but his brother's face is all twisted up, as if he's about to cry. But at least he's moving now, leaning on the cane, hauling himself up into a standing position. It looks hard. It looks like it hurts. But he's coming, that's the thing.

Alexos struggles down the sharply sloping bank, then continues unsteadily along the water's edge to where the skiff is tied. Only then does Teo truly grasp that there's something terribly wrong with his brother's legs. Can he even climb into the boat? Of course-that's why he's so sad!

Alexos leans down, one hand gripping the cane, the other fumbling with the rope. It would have been easier with both hands, but he manages to undo the knot. He pauses for a moment, still holding the rope, staring at Teo, who sits there waiting, confusion on his small, round face. Then Alexos flings the line into the front of the skiff and pushes hard against the bow.

The boat slips backward till the current catches it, spins it around, and starts to carry it downstream. Alexos continues to stand on the sh.o.r.e, watching. His face is so contorted with anguish, Teo wonders if he is dying.

11.

AN ODD a.s.sEMBLY IS waiting in the room when Suliman arrives. Besides the usual house servants, there's a gardener, the side-door porter, a pair of humble laboring types, and one of the grooms. Suliman can feel the burning heat of their excitement: that blend of elation and anxiety, so common in moments of crisis.

"Oh, my lord physician!" the gardener cries as Suliman comes in. "Such a tragedy!" He claps a meaty hand to his chest to express the depth of his emotion. "I was the one who found him. And I didn't know what else to do but carry him back to the palace-with the help of these fine lads here-and then to send for you. He isn't dead, my lord, but he's quite insensible."

Unwilling to take the man's word for this, Suliman makes his way through the crowd, picks up the prince's wrist, and feels for a pulse. He finds one, slow and steady. Then, satisfied, he returns his attention to the gardener.

"Where was he?" Suliman asks. "Please describe the circ.u.mstances."

"Down by the river, my lord. Right at the edge of the water. He was still breathing when I came across him, so I knew he was alive. But he wasn't as he ought to be, neither. He wouldn't open his eyes or speak a word, no matter how much I talked to him."

"Did it look to you like a simple fall? Anything else you want to add?"

"Probably just a simple fall. There wasn't any blood."

"Was he lying facedown?"

"He was."

"Not in that position, then-bent over as he is now?"

The gardener looks at the figure on the bed and considers the question for a moment.

"I guess you're right, my lord. He wasn't exactly facedown when I found him. His legs were sticking straight out, but he'd sort of twisted and bent over from the waist, same as he is there. And when we brought him up here and put him in the bed, we set him down on his back. But he's curled up again, like before."

"He moved then, of his own volition?"

"He must've done."

"Thank you. That was very helpful. Now, you have served the prince most admirably, but I'm afraid I must clear the room so I can examine him."

The men seem reluctant to leave. They'd evidently hoped to stay and see how it all turned out. But the physician's expression, calm but implacable, makes it clear that this is not to be. When they've all filed out, followed by the chamber servants, Suliman shuts the door.

Alone with Alexos now, the physician begins his examination. He sets the back of his hand to the prince's cheek, but detects no sign of fever. If anything, the boy is chilled from lying in the wet. His reflexes are unchanged, his breathing fine. Suliman runs his fingers through Alexos' hair, probing for wounds or signs of injury. He finds nothing, not so much as a scratch or a pigeon-egg lump.

"What happened to you, my prince?" Suliman whispers, touching the deep furrow between the straight, dark brows, feeling the clenched jaw muscles, and especially noting the tortured, curled-up posture. People lie in this way, as an infant lies in the womb, when they are frightened or sad. It is diagnostic, suggestive not of concussion but some emotional trauma. "What was it?" Suliman whispers again. "You were so confident this morning, so determined and proud. You were ready to face the world. And now . . ."

Alexos hears everything Suliman says; he feels the gentle touch of his hands. But he can't respond because his body and his spirit are no longer connected.

His body lies on a princely bed, trying to draw itself up into a protective ball, the way a wood louse does when it is threatened. But the knees won't rise to meet the chest, so the pose is incomplete. Whatever comfort it might have given his body to curl up smaller and smaller, as if hoping to disappear, is denied him.

The real Alexos is far away. It feels as if he's fallen into a very deep well; now he lies at the bottom under the dark, cold water-just him and the memory of the inexplicable, unforgivable thing he did.

He relives that moment again and again: his hand on the bow of the little boat, the sudden shove, the alarm on his brother's face as he floats helplessly away. It's like walking into a firestorm to see if it will hurt. And always it does. It washes over him like a hot wave of agony, the terrible, scalding knowledge that Teo, the best, most innocent soul who ever lived, the person Alexos loved most in the world, is gone forever. There is no taking it back. Teo is dead because he, Alexos, killed him.

And because Teo died alone on the great, dark sea, no coin was set on his tongue to pay the boatman. So he will spend all eternity wandering the sh.o.r.es of the River Styx, unable to cross into the Underworld and dwell in the paradise where virtuous souls are sent.

Alexos wants to die too, but his body won't allow it because that would be too easy; it would bring him forgetfulness and end his pain. So the heart keeps stubbornly pumping away in his chest, the lungs move air in and out, and the mind never sleeps.

Alexos has drifted so far away now, has become so utterly confounded by the fog of his misery, that he's lost all sense of time, all awareness of his body, or the room in which it lies, or anything Suliman says or does. Untethered from his corporal self, he rises into the dark beyond, where there is nothing but emptiness.

And then the king arrives. His voice can be heard from the anteroom; then the door is flung open and he crosses the room with heavy steps. Everything Ektor does is loud when he is in a mood.

Perhaps it's the sudden break in the silence that jerks Alexos back into his body, or more likely it's the natural terror his father has always inspired in him. But whatever the reason, Alexos is in the room again.

"I have to talk to my son!" the king shouts, as though Suliman were hard of hearing. His breath is labored; he must have run up the stairs.

"The prince has collapsed, Your Majesty. As you see, he is not well."

"I don't care. I have questions I need him to answer."

"He hasn't spoken since they found him, Your Grace. But perhaps in time-"

"Alexos!" The king is at the bedside now, shaking the prince's shoulder. "Stop this nonsense. I mean it! Look at me! Alexos!"

Suliman stands, helpless, as the king shakes and slaps his son in an effort to wake him. It goes on for an unbearably long time. But finally even Ektor sees that the boy cannot respond.

"What's the matter with him?" he asks. "Is it the summer sickness again?"

"No, Your Majesty; there are no symptoms to support a relapse. We do know that he fell, and he may have a mild concussion, but there is more to it than that. I don't have an answer yet. I'm sorry."

Ektor sucks in air, then huffs out a great, theatrical sigh. "I'm at the end of my wits," he says, more quietly now. "Are you aware that Prince Matteo has disappeared?"

There's a moment of dead silence. "No, I had not heard that, Your Majesty. But surely he's off playing somewhere, probably here in the palace."

"Oh, G.o.ds, Suliman, how I wish that were true!" Ektor belches out a sob, an extraordinary display of feeling for a man whose emotions run generally in the narrow range between irritation and anger.

But the king trusts his court physician as he trusts no other. He considers Suliman almost a peer-he is a prince, after all, the younger brother of a sultan. But even more important to Ektor than Suliman's pedigree are his intelligence, dignity, discretion, and wisdom. And in truth, he has come here not only to speak with his son but to ask the advice of his physician.

"When that blasted, incompetent nursery women discovered that Teo was missing, half the palace went searching for him. One of the porters said he'd seen the boy running toward the river, over by that big willow where the boys liked to go fishing. So a gardener was sent to look for him. But he found Alexos instead-lying right beside the post where the boat is always tied up. And, oh, Suliman-the skiff is missing! Can't you see the implications? Do you understand now why I must speak with my son?"

"Yes," Suliman says. Alexos hears the weight of that single word.

"I must know what happened down there!"

As usual, there is a brief pause; Suliman thinks before he speaks. "Your Highness," he says at last, his voice remarkably calm, "I've been trying to put it all together and I have some thoughts. Would you care to hear them?"

"I would," the king says.

"Alexos went out this afternoon for his first time since the illness. I knew he was doing this. He insisted on going alone. He said he would walk in the Queen's Garden."

A gasp from Ektor. It doesn't go unnoticed by the physician.

"But let's suppose he changed his mind and went down to the river instead. It's one of his favorite places. And let's further suppose that Teo spotted him crossing the lawn from the nursery window. Not having seen his brother in a very long time, he would naturally want to run down and see him."

"I figured that much out already," the king says. "I want to know what happened after that."

"Well, what if Teo climbed into the skiff, thinking they would go fishing together? I doubt he knew how damaged Alexos was, that even walking over to the boat, let alone climbing into it, would be difficult for him. So Teo might have untied the skiff, expecting his brother to jump in right away, and the current caught it before Alexos could get there."

"Then why wouldn't Alexos call for help?"

"He probably did, but he was far from the palace. Maybe no one was close enough to hear. And in his effort to rescue Teo, Alexos may have fallen and, unable to rise without a.s.sistance, was forced to lie helplessly on the riverbank as his brother floated away. It would explain everything: Teo's disappearance and Alexos' mental collapse."

"Mental? You mean there's nothing really wrong with him?"

"On the contrary, my lord. There's a great deal wrong with him."

"With his mind."