She sat sideways on a long chair in the waiting room, staring into space. Erektina, the king’s beloved lover and the mother of his first prince, yet not the queen, was the most splendid noblewoman in the capital. Everyone said she had everything. Though her origins had prevented her from gaining the title of queen, she had risen to the position of royal consort, was loved by all the people, and, above all, had a magnificent son of whom the king was unbearably proud. What could she have to worry about? The future was on her side. Time was on her side. Though Erektina was past forty, people said she was far more captivating than she had been at nineteen, when she had first entered the king’s bedchamber. They compared her to a rose in full bloom. One more step, and the flower would open gloriously, yet that single step had cleverly been postponed for years. In the palace’s rear garden, roses black on the outside and red at the center grew in a forest. When Erektina had seen the variety presented from somewhere and said it resembled her, the king had ordered them planted until the garden was full of them. He had even named them “Epherina,” meaning “woman of Epherium.” If Erektina was the woman of Epherium, what did that make the queen? Yet the roses grew luxuriantly, and the king enjoyed walking there with an arm around Erektina’s waist. Laughter never ceased along the narrow paths arched over by climbing roses.
A court lady announced the queen’s arrival.
When Erektina rose, a court lady quickly knelt and arranged her skirts. As Queen Sabina entered, Erektina bent at the waist in greeting, then smiled. It was a particular kind of smile, one that made men unconsciously look again and women instinctively wary. Queen Sabina received the greeting coldly and sat in the chair Erektina had occupied. Beneath her pinned-up hair, the nape of her neck was smooth, but countless wrinkles drawn by worry stirred around her eyes and mouth. The flesh beginning to gather at her waist and the luster gone from her hands were now difficult to conceal. She too had once been beautiful, but hiding one’s age in one’s mid-fifties was not easy.
“You look pleased.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“How can you be pleased when your son is going to a battlefield?”
“How could I not rejoice when my son is leaving to become a true man of Epherium?”
“Whether he becomes a man or a coward is something you’ll have to wait until he returns to see, isn’t it?”
“Since I trust my son, I do not believe I need to wait until then.”
“That is called putting on a brave face. Inside, you’re trembling with fear.”
Erektina smiled.
“Perhaps a little. I am a mother too, after all. But today, for some reason, Your Majesty seems even paler. Surely you are not worried about Polytimos. Are you already worrying about Pallasos’s departure, which is still three years away?”
Queen Sabina’s makeup that day was indeed a little too white. Just as the queen, furious, raised her head, Erektina bent deeply in a bow, then walked toward the doorway without even looking at her face. The queen cried out.
“How dare you try to leave before me!”
“As Your Majesty has said, today is the day my son leaves for mortal danger. I trust you will readily understand a mother’s wish to stand beside her son.”
The doors opened. The waiting court ladies quickly held up a parasol and flanked her with feather fans. As Erektina walked forward with confidence, thunderous cheers and applause erupted. The citizens of the capital who had gathered to celebrate the prince’s first departure for war watched Erektina come and stand beside the king and Gene, who were already on the platform. Though it lasted only a moment, the sight of those three alone as though they were the king’s family etched itself into their minds. A little later, Queen Sabina, paler still with anger, and Prince Pallasos came out.
As priests serving the goddess of victory, Epherium’s patron deity, and the god of war came forward and offered blessings in turn, tears welled in Erektina’s eyes, and the king held her hand. Sabina stared straight ahead stiffly. She no longer cared how people might see her. Only the thought that she had been made a fool of circled through her head. Sabina was no fool, so she could easily imagine what effect Erektina’s actions today would have. Gene, who had come of age before Pallasos and was going to war, already put him at a great disadvantage in the struggle over the appointment of the crown prince, and now even she, the queen, had been reduced to an attendant.
The fact that Gene’s departure made it difficult to challenge the matter only fueled her anger. For a while, Erektina would make a splendid performance of being a mother grieving after sending her son to the battlefield. And if Sabina said anything about the order in which they had come onto the platform, the king would hardly listen. She would be lucky not to be shouted at instead.
Erektina must have calculated all of this. Sabina had not been suffering at her hands for merely a year or two. A cunning woman. A woman who made use of even her own son’s departure for war without wasting a penny of it. If Sabina had been in her position, she would have been so worried about her son that such a scheme would never even have occurred to her. She was hateful, yet frightening at the same time. Could Sabina truly protect Pallasos’s position as crown prince against a woman like this?
While Sabina thought these things, the face of someone Erektina had not included in her calculations was growing cold and hard. It was Gene.
“What are you doing?”
Erektina stood before him. It was her turn to drape his cloak around him. Next, the king would hand him a sword. This ridiculous, unprecedented ceremony had come from Erektina’s mind, but the spectators loved it. Gene stared at Erektina. His mother’s eyes, as beautiful as those of the young women surrounding him, seemed to be suppressing impatience. They seemed to say words he could not hear. Do what you must. Your feelings do not matter. Suddenly, he felt an urge to leave this place. If he jumped down from the platform and disappeared among those people.
He would not be able to. He would only be found at once. Besides, with a red silk cloak and chain mail on, there was nowhere he could hide. Gene embraced his mother formally, then quickly drew away. Erektina felt that her son was pushing her away. But to the people standing far off, it merely looked like a mother and son reluctant to part.
The king said,
“Return victorious, Polytimos.”
They would win even if Gene did nothing, but he silently accepted the sword. When he held it in his right hand and showed it to the people, the cheering grew louder. Looking at the people stamping their feet and pumping their fists, waving bouquets and choking back tears, Gene tried desperately not to laugh. What did they expect of him, going to war for the first time? He felt terribly sorry for the experienced men assigned beneath a commander who was still a boy fit only to feed horses or clean a stable. No, perhaps they had deliberately chosen only seasoned veterans. They would have to take good care that their commander did not even lose his way.
“Brother, you look magnificent today. If you turn up looking like that, the Jandana will flee all the way to Jandanizi.”
“Really? Want to join my unit?”
“No. If it means chasing you all the way to Jandanizi, I refuse.”
As the two whispered, Queen Sabina’s gaze sharpened, but Pallasos paid it no mind. He smiled mischievously, then looked away. Gene envied that composure. Perhaps that sort of ease was the truly princely quality.
General Beraxus, with his white hair, came up onto the platform. He was the commander in chief who would lead this expedition. When the king patted Gene’s shoulder, Gene went before the general and bent at the waist in greeting. The general also bent to receive the greeting. Gene was to accompany him as an adjutant. Throughout the expedition to come, the general would have no occasion to bow before Gene. Following the general down from the platform, he joined the troops standing in formation. The general had four adjutants, and Gene was the first among them. Surely the man who had originally been first was standing beside him now. What would that man think of him? He must think him a disgusting fellow, a mere fledgling who had taken the leading position simply because he was a prince.
He did not know why only thoughts like these came to him. Could he not simply be happy? All he had to do was follow the well-arranged script that would allow him to render service. Could he not regard that as sincerity, enjoy it with delight, and return? Gene absently looked back at the platform. Pallasos, who had been watching him until then, mouthed the words.
You think too much.
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