Chapter 198: White Linen Will Bloom Red Flowers
“I wrote a letter. You carry it with you, and when you arrive at Ayyarasa Road, you give it to their Queen Mother Maria.” Theodora said, handing a folded letter that had not been sealed with beeswax to Anna.
Anyone who had lived in the Byzantine court for a period of time knew that whether carrying things for someone, money, or delivering letters, the person handling it had to know the contents. Anna looked up at Theodora, “May I open it and take a look?”
“Go ahead.” Theodora had nothing to hide. In this letter, she asked Queen Mother Maria to take care of Anna, but without any intention of moving Maria with emotion. When they were still in the Grand Imperial Palace of the Byzantine Empire, Maria’s mother and she were enemies, and they had a significant conflict over their respective daughters’ marriages—even though one was her biological daughter and the other her adopted daughter.
“As return, I will take care of her mother.” When Maria got married back then, her mother was still one of Emperor Manuel I’s most favored Consorts. But a few years ago, due to a serious illness, she became sallow and emaciated, haggard in appearance. Emperor Manuel I disliked her ugliness and did not want to be reminded of his own aging and the inevitable death, so he no longer saw her.
Before this expedition, Maria’s mother had been forced to move out of her palace and was barely getting by in a remote little room. She was not unwilling to leave here, but she had no home to return to. Her relatives had died at the hands of Emperor Manuel I. Unable to resent and take revenge on the Emperor, her husband vented this anger on her.
There had previously been women who left the harem and returned to what they called their families, only to mysteriously die of sudden illness. Nosy people dug open their graves and found that without exception they were covered in wounds, skin and bones.
Today Theodora made such a promise, but to be honest from the heart, she did not know how long this promise could hold. She was already over thirty, and her current beauty was nothing more than the last blaze before winter’s arrival.
“After you marry that Crusader knight, do not leave Cyprus again. No matter what happens, do not come back.” Theodora leaned close to Anna, instructing her in a whisper-like manner.
“Your age is greater than his; this is your disadvantage and also your advantage.
You must love and care for him like a mother. Rest assured, he will not harm you—at least not before you have a child. No, even after you have a child, he will respect you.” Theodora pointed to Anna’s chest, where there was a star and crescent gemstone brooch. At that time, the new moon was still just the symbol of Byzantium. “You are the daughter of Emperor Manuel I of the Byzantine Empire. Although your father did such cruel things to you, causing you to lose your original noble status, the marriage contract clearly states that Cyprus is your dowry.
For the sake of this legitimacy, no matter what, your survival is most beneficial to him. Of course, you need not vie for power with him; there is no need, child. Cyprus is not a peaceful garden. They do not fully obey our Empire and Emperor. They are just a group of busy lemmings who hide at the slightest disturbance or scatter everywhere, and those ignorant masses will only follow the lead of a few at the front, rushing east and west. They will not obey your commands just because you are the Emperor’s daughter.
But if your husband can bring a strong army, the people of Cyprus will certainly be quite docile—they respect your husband and will respect you. That is enough.
Never chase after love, even if he is beautiful like Endymion. Never see him as your husband; see him as a reliable friend or your kin. You must realize he needs you, and you need him. The bond between you is far more solid and noble than that of lovers.
“Theodora… Mama…”
Anna trembled all over, barely able to make a sound. When her mother passed away, she was still a little girl, and Theodora at that time was not much older than her. Rather than saying Theodora took good care of her, it was more that they relied on each other in this deep palace, barely surviving day after long day.
But to Anna, Theodora was also her mother.
That word “Mama” also moved Theodora slightly.
“One day I will grow old and fade, or even before that day, Emperor Manuel I will have tired of me. Or perhaps Emperor Manuel I will die someday. And his heir sees me as dead branches and fallen leaves in this harem, but no matter. Maria’s mother can survive in the harem with her embroidery, and of course I can too.”
“But you might as well think this way,” Theodora advised again. “If you can have a stable marriage with your husband, deep affection, you can bring me to Cyprus. I would be very willing to look after your children, if by then you have not grown tired of me.”
“I will not—I will wait there.
If the Emperor is willing to let you go, whether my father or my brother, I will immediately send someone to pick you up.”
“That would be wonderful, child.” Theodora picked up the parchment—Anna had been too agitated earlier and dropped it without noticing—rolled it up again and tucked it into her bodice. “This is hope, is it not? We must hold onto it to survive, and only by surviving can we…” Her words stopped abruptly there.
Anna knew what she wanted to say. No woman in this harem did not want to see the downfall of Emperor Manuel I, all the Komnenos men, even the entire Empire.
After that, they did not speak, just held each other tightly, as if to give each other some strength and warmth.
————
Theodora was still thinking whether, before departure, to arrange for that Christian knight to see Anna and for her to see the knight. Although the marriage was already settled and unchangeable—unless one of them died—if the knight did not like Anna’s appearance, or had some regret elsewhere, she could try to mediate or compensate.
But unexpectedly, before she could seek the Emperor’s permission, the Emperor summoned her to lead Princess Anna and the women of the palace to entertain the King of Ayyarasa Road and his subjects in the courtyard.
If according to law and doctrine, the Emperor’s Consorts originally had no such duty or power, but—the Emperor’s will was what people truly had to obey.
Byzantines eat four meals a day（limited to nobles）: breakfast is progevma, lunch is called gevma, afternoon tea is deilino, dinner is deipno. Generally, lunch and dinner are formal banquets, breakfast is more private, so Theodora could only choose afternoon tea.
An afternoon tea in the courtyard, with a snow-white large canopy erected, colorful carpets laid out, musicians playing music on the side, host and guests sitting on the ground, tasting layered nut pastries, almond biscuits, rice pudding, and mead. But aside from the dancers, the women of the court and the men were still separated by a dense hydrangea mound.
Snow-white, pink, and purple-red hydrangeas layered thickly; anyone sitting could see the other side just by straightening their back a little.
“Quick, take a look,” a girl urged Anna. “Quick, see if he is the flawless handsome man they say!”
People of the Byzantine Empire always held Crusaders in contempt. They thought these barbarians who destroyed the Western Roman Empire were like born beasts, without wisdom or morality, and only needed to be treated like animals: give them Food and they tear at your enemies for you; without Food, you must watch out for becoming their Food.
Even if they had to admit the victories Crusaders achieved against Saracens, they would turn around and contemptuously call them “lesser men.” The Crusader knights they had seen before seemed to prove this: whether king or Grand Master of the Knights, their hair was always disheveled, beards greasy—if they had them—their faces stiff and broad from clenching jaws too much or bellowing, making it hard to tell if they were crying or smiling. Few among them were tall and elegant; most were heavy and burly.
But Caesar was completely different.
It was no wonder the man whose tongue was cut out thought this Christian knight should be a Byzantine noble, perhaps even with noble blood. In Emperor Manuel I’s harem, Theodora had seen countless beautiful girls and boys; even if the hundred most beautiful among them were combined into one person, they could not compare to this young knight.
She recalled what Emperor Manuel I had said and could not help but secretly spit.
After urging Anna to look and quietly parting the branches to look herself, the chattering girls suddenly fell silent.
These young women had once been full of jealousy toward Maria. They were destined never to leave this Grand Imperial Palace, more likely to serve some decrepit old man. They could not see their future, nor did they know where to go.
Now, they poured all this resentment onto Anna. When Theodora had to serve Emperor Manuel I and had no time to look after Anna, countless people said extremely vicious things to Anna, overtly or covertly.
They mocked Anna for being too old while her future husband was a young knight; after they married, her husband would surely leave her in the castle and go out seeking pleasure himself.
Others said that even if her husband was willing to cohabit with her, at Anna’s age she might not be able to have children, and if she did, they would surely be stillborn or deformed. They even said seriously that if by then her husband could control Cyprus alone, he might annul the marriage with her.
Some girls and Anna’s brother had the same suspicion—they were more well-informed, knowing Anna’s future husband was close to the King of Ayyarasa Road. Since birth, they had probably never seen true affection; all sweet words and intimacies were just for exchanging money and power, or base desires.
They vividly described so-called love stories, but not between a man and a woman, but between two men.
Anna knew they wanted to anger her, even induce her to doubt her husband. Thus, even if they became husband and wife, such baseless suspicion would suffice to shatter their relationship.
If Anna had not spent a full twenty-five years in this palace, she might truly have been made hesitant and pained by these sharp-as-blades words.
But she had seen too many utterly ugly sights; how could such shallow attacks harm her?
She did not worry as the girls hoped. After seeing Caesar, she instead showed a calm expression. A young and handsome husband far surpassed an old and ugly one. And as Theodora said, even if he did not love her, she could rebuild their relationship. Interests or kinship were far more reliable than love.
Anna was not struck; the girls were the ones struck.
They babbled nonsense in front of Anna, sometimes describing Caesar as a monstrous hermaphrodite, sometimes as a fool with no merit beyond looks, sometimes as a thug gold on the outside and rotten within. In fact, they had not even seen Caesar; all descriptions were fabricated to mock Anna.
But when, with Emperor Manuel I’s permission, they saw Anna’s future husband, they all fell instantly silent.
Theodora was the first to notice the girls’ abnormality. She immediately grew tense, fearing the Emperor would notice the strangeness here. Never mind that it was with the Emperor’s permission; if the Emperor thought they intended to betray him—they might be thrown into the Hippodrome to feed the beasts.
Fortunately, Emperor Manuel I seemed not to notice the silence on the other side of the hydrangeas. He clapped his hands, summoning a clown, who led in a monk.
“The saint this monk aspires to is Enoch.” The Emperor pointed at the monk and said: “I called him here to see my daughter and my future son-in-law, to see if he can obtain a proverb related to destiny.”
