Free Anna of Byzantium by Tracy Barrett Page B

replied. “That is not the way of the Comneni, Your Majesty. A slave who willfully disobeys must be punished so that others do not think we are soft. I had told her to use red, and she used purple. Next time, she will think twice before taking it upon herself to disobey my order.”
    As always, my father did not contradict his mother, although I knew that he disapproved of beating slaves for such small reasons. Instead, he sighed and turned to Maria, who had not been long to follow me in. He blessed her in her turn, exclaimed over how she had grown, and how much she resembled our mother. She looked terrified as she tried to answer him, and suddenly my heart went out to my little sister, who was so obviously trying to be brave. She looked relieved when her blessing was accomplished and she moved next to me as we lined up next to my mother. We dared not hold hands in so public an assembly, but I sidled close to her, and under the cover of our long robes I pressed the toe of my slipper reassuringly on her foot. She glanced up a little at me, and a tiny smile moved across her lips.
    Finally it was John’s turn. I leaned forward a little, as I had not seen him close up in months, although I had heard stories of his legendary tantrums, his refusals to wear appropriate clothes, and of course his continued absence from the schoolroom. He was taller, I saw, althoughstill short for a six-year-old. But for once, it appeared, the nurse had had no difficulty in getting him to wear proper dress, or even to behave correctly. He stood in front of our father, his head bowed with respect, hands clasped in front of him. What a little gentleman, I thought, and glanced sidelong at Maria. She was staring at the boy in frank astonishment.
    “My son,” said our father. John approached. Our father must surely be nearly a stranger to him now, and I was curious to see how the boy would respond. John approached in a most seemly manner, head held low, humility oozing from every pore. I had never seen him so proper. Nor had anyone else, and I saw amazement on everyone’s features. John knelt at my father’s feet, and as my father pressed his hand on the boy’s head in blessing, John looked up at him and threw himself in the emperor’s arms, crying out, “I missed you so!”
    Taken aback by this display of emotion, my father patted John awkwardly on the back, looking around desperately for someone to help him. John’s nurse came to the rescue, pulling the little boy, sobbing now, off my father. “My apologies, sire,” she said, bowing low. “We have been inclined to spoil him during your absence, and have neglected to school him sufficiently in his behavior toward his elders.”
    “No matter,” said my father. “I am more pleased than otherwise.” He looked John up and down. “So, my son, how has it been faring with you? Are you making progress in your studies?”
    “Oh, yes, Father,” said John. “Master Simon is mostpleased with my progress.” I felt my jaw drop open, and saw that Maria was gaping too. Did he not care that we all knew he was lying, or was he counting on our unwillingness to displease our father by exposing the lie to keep us silent? I clenched my teeth to keep from blurting out the truth.
    “And do you help your mother while I am away? You are my son, and must be the man when I am not here.”
    “Yes, Father,” he said, and again I had to struggle to hide my disgust at his barefaced lies. Far from being a help, John made everyone work even harder trying to keep him satisfied and not causing trouble with his temper. But my father seemed to believe him, and even our grandmother nodded approval.
    “Good, good,” my father said, smiling again. “You may go now and join the others.” John approached us, lifting his face in my direction to find his proper spot. I noticed that despite his apparent sobbing a moment before, John’s face was completely dry of tears, and no redness marred his eyes. Little hypocrite, I