brushed off the dust on my skirt as she walked around me, and I felt her lightly remove the chalice from my hand. She returned to her original place, her hand hidden in the folds of her dress. As I kissed my mother’s cheek, I saw the girl slip the chalice into her pocket, which being a servant’s was much larger than the dainty pouch I wore at my waist.
Suddenly I jumped at a noise from outside the palace. Heralds were shouting, trumpets were blaring. It didn’t sound like an attack, but still Maria and I looked at my mother for reassurance. She was staring in the same direction I was, her brow furrowed, her hand to her throat.
“Go inside, Princesses,” she said. She hastened back through the door.
The three of us stood still, heads bowed, hands properly clasped, until we heard the cloth hanging swing shut. Then I turned to the girl. There was a twinkle in her eye and I could tell that she was trying to repress a grin. I pretended not to notice it.
“Why did you do that?” I asked. She shrugged. “How did you know I was hiding that chalice?” I persisted.
“You looked the way my little sister did when she kept a kitten that my father had told her to take to the barn,” she answered. “Only, of course, your clothes are much more elegant.”
She was getting too familiar, although she had not actually said anything offensive.
“What is your name?” I asked her.
“Your mother tells me that my name is now Sophia,” she answered.
“Whose household did you serve before you came here?”
Finally, I had managed to remove the smile from her face, although I had no idea how I had done it. I was pleased to see that her expression was properly submissive now. I leaned closer to look at her. Her lips were clamped tight together and her cheeks were red. They looked hot.
At last she answered, “I did not serve in a household. I lived with my mother and father and brothers and little sister in a village far from Constantinople.”
“Oh-ho,” I said. “Now I see. You’re a Turk!”
She did not say anything, which was answer enough. Turks were constantly trying to invade the empire. They were always quickly subdued by the imperial forces, and any survivors of the battles were of course enslaved.
“Where is your little sister now, and the rest of your family?”
No answer. Then, “Dead. Or sold into slavery, like me,” she said. “Most of my village was killed. The man I was to marry—I think I saw him being led off the day I was found in the woods. But I don’t know about anyone else.”
I tried to picture Constantine Ducas being led off in chains, but couldn’t succeed in seeing his proud form bent in submission. An image of Hector’s mutilated body returned to me once more, and I shuddered.
CHAPTER EIGHT
he maid was still staring at me with curious brown eyes. “What is it?” I asked impatiently.
“Are you really a princess?” she asked.
“I am,” I answered, trying to hide my pride at her obvious awe. “I am the daughter of Emperor Alexius Comnenus, who conquered the empire when he was only twenty-four. And when I am older, in a year or two, I will marry Constantine Ducas, a relative of the emperor my father deposed. I haven’t yet decided whether I will let him be emperor or not. In either case, I will then be empress.”
“I too am betrothed,” broke in the girl eagerly. “I am to marry the son of our neighbor, Malik. He is older thanI, but very kind, and when he finds me, we will wed, and go live with his brother in the mountains—”
“What do I care about your peasant alliances?” I burst out, astonished that she was addressing me so familiarly. “Do you dare compare this farmer’s son to Constantine Ducas? Do you not know that one day I will be ruling the entire empire while you dream of living with your brother-in-law? And what makes you think you will be released from your servitude to marry?”
Her face clouded over, but she wore a resolute expression. “I just
Suddenly I jumped at a noise from outside the palace. Heralds were shouting, trumpets were blaring. It didn’t sound like an attack, but still Maria and I looked at my mother for reassurance. She was staring in the same direction I was, her brow furrowed, her hand to her throat.
“Go inside, Princesses,” she said. She hastened back through the door.
The three of us stood still, heads bowed, hands properly clasped, until we heard the cloth hanging swing shut. Then I turned to the girl. There was a twinkle in her eye and I could tell that she was trying to repress a grin. I pretended not to notice it.
“Why did you do that?” I asked. She shrugged. “How did you know I was hiding that chalice?” I persisted.
“You looked the way my little sister did when she kept a kitten that my father had told her to take to the barn,” she answered. “Only, of course, your clothes are much more elegant.”
She was getting too familiar, although she had not actually said anything offensive.
“What is your name?” I asked her.
“Your mother tells me that my name is now Sophia,” she answered.
“Whose household did you serve before you came here?”
Finally, I had managed to remove the smile from her face, although I had no idea how I had done it. I was pleased to see that her expression was properly submissive now. I leaned closer to look at her. Her lips were clamped tight together and her cheeks were red. They looked hot.
At last she answered, “I did not serve in a household. I lived with my mother and father and brothers and little sister in a village far from Constantinople.”
“Oh-ho,” I said. “Now I see. You’re a Turk!”
She did not say anything, which was answer enough. Turks were constantly trying to invade the empire. They were always quickly subdued by the imperial forces, and any survivors of the battles were of course enslaved.
“Where is your little sister now, and the rest of your family?”
No answer. Then, “Dead. Or sold into slavery, like me,” she said. “Most of my village was killed. The man I was to marry—I think I saw him being led off the day I was found in the woods. But I don’t know about anyone else.”
I tried to picture Constantine Ducas being led off in chains, but couldn’t succeed in seeing his proud form bent in submission. An image of Hector’s mutilated body returned to me once more, and I shuddered.
CHAPTER EIGHT
he maid was still staring at me with curious brown eyes. “What is it?” I asked impatiently.
“Are you really a princess?” she asked.
“I am,” I answered, trying to hide my pride at her obvious awe. “I am the daughter of Emperor Alexius Comnenus, who conquered the empire when he was only twenty-four. And when I am older, in a year or two, I will marry Constantine Ducas, a relative of the emperor my father deposed. I haven’t yet decided whether I will let him be emperor or not. In either case, I will then be empress.”
“I too am betrothed,” broke in the girl eagerly. “I am to marry the son of our neighbor, Malik. He is older thanI, but very kind, and when he finds me, we will wed, and go live with his brother in the mountains—”
“What do I care about your peasant alliances?” I burst out, astonished that she was addressing me so familiarly. “Do you dare compare this farmer’s son to Constantine Ducas? Do you not know that one day I will be ruling the entire empire while you dream of living with your brother-in-law? And what makes you think you will be released from your servitude to marry?”
Her face clouded over, but she wore a resolute expression. “I just
Similar Books
