to make painstakingly clear.’
His father had told him many times of the duties and responsibilities of the Emperor, labouring over the function of each official in the Imperial court, but never hinting at this. It was all so clear now. The man had been preparing him, covertly training him in what he knew would one day come. All the lessons from his mother, dreadful at the time, now made sense. Obviously they planned all along for Leopold to one day return and inherit the throne.
What a marvellous revelation! Leopold danced with joy; not because he was elated to have the power or wealth that such a title would bring—those thoughts existed but were quickly pushed aside. What excited him was something even better. If he was Emperor, then everyone in the Empire was subservient to him, and even Lord Samuel had to follow his word without question.
‘But—but—but,’ he stammered, relishing the thought. ‘But that means you must do what I say! You must listen to me. You must call me Your Majesty and I can call you whatever I want.’ He was excited. At last! To have sway over the man.
The magician smiled—a self-satisfied and knowing smile—and as soon as Leopold saw it, he knew that somehow his victory had been lost. His jubilation fell as Samuel explained.
‘I will call you Leopold and you will call me Lord Samuel,’ the black-cloaked man reminded him. ‘That is what we agreed, until such time as our bond has ended. I will command and you will obey. We made this covenant only earlier this same day, and I would not dare break my word to you, or let you break yours to me, Leopold.’ He stressed the final word, making it plain that an Emperor or Your Majesty would never precede it.
‘What … but … wait!’ Leopold floundered. ‘You knew this would happen!’ he spat out angrily. ‘You—you tricked me!’
‘Then let it be another lesson for you, Leopold. Never agree to anything if you don’t know what you are agreeing to.’ With that, he had done smiling, and the pleasure vanished from his face quickly, a candle flame snuffed upon the wick. His cloak swirling, he departed from the room.
‘If you please, Your Majesty,’ someone said at Leopold’s side. ‘We will show you to your room.’
It was one of the captain’s men, but Leopold was too furious and too frustrated to hear the words. When he finally calmed enough to follow the beckoning soldier, he was sure old Salu was grinning, eyes squeezed tight in silent mirth.
****
Leopold was granted his own room on the top floor. Surprisingly, guards had been set outside his doorway.
‘Can we help you, Your Majesty?’ one of them asked upon him opening the door to peek outside.
Leopold shook his head and retreated into his room. Evidently, the Emperor was a captive.
He received an evening meal, and a large tub in the corner was filled with buckets of steaming water brought in by dozens of sweating maids and houseboys. Soaking in the scented water soothed the soreness in his bones, but could not douse the sorrow in his heart. His father was dead: the world had changed in the space of day.
The old maids wanted to stay and tend to him, talking excitedly about his presence, but he chased them away to have some peace. He picked at the various clothes they had left for him, but decided to slip back into the same familiar, faded shirt and weatherworn trousers he arrived in. He hoped someone might bring him the bag his mother packed for him, for it contained a set of clean clothes from home, but there was no sign of it.
The quiet of the room became uncomfortable, reinforcing Leopold’s unhappiness at all that had occurred. The revelation of being Emperor could not console him for the loss of his father, or being taken from his mother.
He decided a change of location might help his mood. He was not about to be caged. Slipping on the simple shoes his mother had made for him, he sought a way to venture outside.
Sliding out the window and along