kingdom of nations

Chapter 198 The White Flax Will Bloom with Red Flowers (Part 1)

“I have written a letter. Keep it with you and when you reach Arathor, give it to their Queen Mother Mary,” Theodora said, handing Anna a folded letter that was not dripped with beeswax.

Anyone who has lived in the Byzantine court for a time knows that whether it's carrying something, money, or delivering a letter, the person handling it must know its contents. Anna looked up at Theodora and asked, "May I open it and take a look?"

“See?” Theodora made no attempt to hide her feelings. In the letter, she asked Queen Mother Maria to look after Anna, but she didn’t try to sway Maria with emotion. Back in the Byzantine Empire’s Grand Palace, Maria’s mother and she were enemies, and they had even clashed over the marriage of their respective daughters—one a biological daughter and the other an adopted one.

“In return, I will take care of her mother.” When Maria married, her mother was one of Manuel I’s most favored wives. But a few years ago, a serious illness left her pale, thin, and emaciated. Manuel I was disgusted by her ugliness and did not want to be reminded of his own aging and inevitable death, so he refused to see her again.

Before this expedition, Maria's mother had been forced to move out of her palace and was living a hard life in a remote little room. It was not that she did not want to leave, but she was homeless. Her relatives had died at the hands of Manuel I. Her husband could not resent or take revenge on the emperor, but he could vent his anger on her.

There had been women who left the harem and returned to their so-called families, only to inexplicably fall ill and die suddenly. Some busybodies dug up their graves and found that, without exception, they were covered in wounds and emaciated.

Theodora made this promise today, but honestly, she doesn't know how long she can keep it. She's already in her thirties, and her current beauty is just the last bloom before winter arrives.

“After you marry that Crusader knight, never leave Cyprus again. No matter what happens, never come back,” Theodora whispered to Anna.

"You are older than him, which is both your disadvantage and your advantage."

"You must love and care for him like a mother. Don't worry, he won't hurt you, at least not until you have children. No, even after you have children, he will respect you." Theodora pointed to Anna's chest, where a gemstone brooch with a star and crescent symbol was worn. At that time, the crescent was still a Byzantine symbol. "You are the daughter of Manuel I, the Byzantine Emperor. Although your father did such cruel things to you, causing you to lose your original noble status, it was clearly stated in the marriage contract that Cyprus was your dowry."

For the sake of legitimacy, it is in his best interest for you to live, no matter what. Of course, you don't need to fight him for power; there's no need, child. Cyprus is not a peaceful garden. They are not entirely obedient to our empire and the emperor. They are just a bunch of busy lemmings, who will hide or scatter at the slightest disturbance. And those ignorant people will only follow the few leaders around. They will not obey your orders just because you are the emperor's daughter.

But if your husband can bring a strong army, the people of Cyprus will be quite docile—they will respect your husband and you, and that will be enough.

Never pursue love, even if he is as beautiful as Endymion. Never see him as your husband, but as a reliable friend or family member. You must realize that he needs you and you need him. The connection between you is far stronger and more precious than that between lovers.

"Theodora...Mom..."

Anna trembled and could barely make a sound. She was just a little girl when her mother died, and Theodora was only a few years older than her. Rather than saying that Theodora took good care of her, it was more accurate to say that they relied on each other in this deep palace, barely surviving day after day.

But for Anna, Theodora was also her mother.

That cry of "Mom" touched Theodora slightly.

“One day I will grow old and lose my beauty, or perhaps even before that day comes, Manuel I will have already grown tired of me, or perhaps Manuel I will die one day. And his successor will see me as a withered branch in this harem, but it doesn’t matter. Maria’s mother could make a living in the harem by her embroidery, so can I.”

“But you might as well think of it this way,” Theodora advised again, “If you can have a stable and loving marriage with your husband, you can bring me to Cyprus. I would be happy to take care of your children, if you are not tired of me by then.”

“I won’t—I’ll wait there.”

"If the emperor is willing to let you go, whether it be my father or my brother, I will immediately send someone to fetch you."

“That would be the best thing ever, child.” Theodora picked up the parchment—Anna had been too excited to notice when she dropped it—rolled it up again, and tucked it back into her bodice. “This is hope, isn’t it? We must hold onto it to live, and only by living can we…” Her words trailed off.

Anna knew what she wanted to say. In this harem, not one of the women didn't want to see Manuel I, all of Komnen's men, and even the entire empire fall.

They didn't speak after that, but just hugged each other tightly, as if trying to give each other some strength and warmth.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Theodora was still thinking about whether she should arrange for the Christian knight to meet Anna before setting off, and for her to meet the knight as well, even though the marriage had been arranged and could not be changed—unless one of them died. If the knight disliked Anna's appearance or had any regrets elsewhere, she could try to mediate or make amends.

Unexpectedly, before she could even obtain the emperor's consent, he ordered her to lead Princess Anna and the women of the palace to entertain the King and his ministers of Arrassal in the courtyard.

According to law and doctrine, the emperor's concubines did not have such duties and powers, but—the emperor's will was what people were truly required to obey. Byzantines ate four meals a day (only nobles were allowed to eat): breakfast was called progevma, lunch was called gevma, afternoon snack was called deilino, and dinner was called deipno. Generally, lunch and dinner were formal banquets, while breakfast was more private, so Theodora could only choose afternoon snack.

An afternoon lunch was held in the courtyard, with a large white canopy erected and a brightly colored carpet laid out. Musicians played on the side, and the host and guests sat on the ground, enjoying nut mille-feuille, almond cookies, rice pudding and mead. However, apart from the geisha, the women and men of the court were still separated by a dense hydrangea bush.

The hydrangeas, in shades of snow-white, pink, and crimson, are layered upon each other, and if a seated person straightens their back slightly, they can see the person on the other side.

"Look quickly," a girl urged Anna, "Look, isn't he as handsome as they say, an impeccable man?!"

The Byzantines held the Crusaders in contempt. They considered these barbarians who had destroyed the Western Roman Empire to be like natural beasts, devoid of wisdom and morality. They believed that the Crusaders should be treated like animals: give them food, and they would fight and bite your enemies; without food, you should be careful not to become their prey.

Even though they had to acknowledge the Crusaders' victory over the Saracens, they would still turn around and contemptuously refer to them as "lower men." The Crusader knights they had seen before seemed to prove this point. Whether they were kings or Grand Masters of the order, their hair was always messy and their beards were greasy. If they had any, their faces were stiff and broad from clenching their jaws too much or shouting, making it difficult to tell whether they were crying or smiling. Few of them were tall and graceful; most were clumsy and burly.

But César is completely different.

It's no wonder that the man whose tongue had been cut off thought this Christian knight must be a Byzantine nobleman, perhaps even of noble blood. Theodora had seen countless beautiful girls and boys in Manuel I's harem, and even if you combined the hundred most beautiful of them into one person, they still couldn't compare to this young knight.

She recalled what Manuel I had said and couldn't help but mutter a curse under her breath.

After Anna was encouraged to look at it, and after she herself secretly parted the flower branches to take a look, the chattering girls suddenly fell silent.

These young women were once filled with envy for Mary. They were destined to be unable to leave the grand palace and were more likely to serve an old man in his twilight years. They could not see their future and did not know where to go.

Now, they vented all their resentment on Anna. While Theodora was busy serving Manuel I and had no time to look after Anna, countless people, openly or secretly, said extremely malicious things to Anna.

They either mocked Anna for being too old, while her future husband was still a young knight, and that after their marriage, he would surely abandon her in the castle and go out to have fun.

Some people say that even if her husband were willing to have sex with her, Anna might not be able to have children at her age, and even if she did, they would definitely be stillborn or deformed. They even said with great seriousness that if her husband had been able to control Cyprus on his own at that time, he might have broken off the engagement with her.

Some girls, like Anna's brother, had the same suspicions—they were more astute, knowing that Anna's future husband was close to King Arrassal—that they had probably never experienced genuine affection since birth, and that all the sweet words and intimate moments were merely for exchanging money and power, or for the lowest of desires.

They vividly recounted some so-called love stories, except that they weren't between a man and a woman, but between two men.

Anna knew they wanted to provoke her, even to induce her to doubt her husband. That way, even if they were married, such unfounded suspicions would be enough to completely destroy their relationship.

If Anna hadn't already spent twenty-five years in this palace, she might have truly been bewildered and tormented by these sharp, dagger-like words.

But she had seen far too many ugly sights, so how could such shallow attacks possibly hurt her?
Contrary to the girls' expectations, she was not worried. After meeting Cesar, she appeared calm and composed. A young and handsome husband was far better than an old and ugly one. And as Theodora said, even if he didn't love her, she could rebuild their relationship. Interests or kinship were much more reliable than love.

Anna wasn't affected; it was the girls who were.

They spouted nonsense in front of Anna, describing Cesar as a monstrous, and another as a fool with no achievements other than his looks, and yet another as a scoundrel who was all show and no substance. In fact, they had never even met Cesar; all their descriptions were fabricated to mock Anna.

But when they met Anna's future husband with Manuel I's permission, they all fell silent in an instant.

Theodora was the first to notice the girls' unusual behavior. She immediately became nervous, worried that the emperor had discovered their antics. Not only was it permitted by the emperor, but if he believed they were intentionally betraying him, they might be thrown into the arena to be eaten by wild beasts.

Fortunately, Manuel I seemed unaware of the silence on the other side of the hydrangea. He clapped his hands and summoned a clown, who led a monk.

"The saint this monk is seeking is Enoch," the emperor said, pointing to the monk. "I summoned him here to meet my daughter and my future son-in-law, to see if he can obtain a prophecy concerning destiny."

(End of this chapter)