When we bring the first buckets with hot water, Hadrian's bed is still concealed by the drapes. The servants are removing the remains of the last night meal and replacing it with fresh fruits, cheese and wine. They move silently like ghosts.

By the time I return to the room for the fifth time, Syra is kneeling by the door and Hadrian stands by the window.

I spill the hot water into the bathtub, then join Syra on the floor. A servant woman makes the bed, then leaves quietly, carrying the old sheets with her.

Hadrian yawns and turns away from the window, rubbing his eyes. He's wearing his purple silk robe and slippers, and his uncombed golden hair falls to his shoulders in disarray. I avert my gaze and peer at the floor.

He walks past me to the tub.

Before he reaches it, the door on the other side of the room opens, and three men enter. Two of them remain by the threshold, the third continues in.

"Your majesty," says Hadrian, a hint of surprise in his voice.

Your majesty?

The King is in the same room with me? The realization makes me almost dizzy with hate. It takes all my self-control to keep my eyes down.

He doesn't reply to his son's greeting. In fact, it's curiously quiet in the room.

"Can I be of service to your majesty?" says Hadrian at last.

"Can you?" The King's voice is deep and resonant. "Have you been of service to me lately?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand–"

"The merchant talked to me this morning. He changed his mind. He's giving us twenty ships. He said you have convinced him, and now he believes in our cause."

"Isn't this good news, father?" Hadrian says. "Isn’t this what you wanted? With this addition, our fleet is all but undefeatable. Aren’t you… glad?"

"I'm glad." The King's voice doesn’t convey any joy, though. "I'm glad he has changed his mind all of a sudden, thanks to you… convincing him."

"I guess I could be more useful that you gave me credit for," Hadrian says brightly. "Perhaps I'm not hopeless in politics, after all."

Another pause follows.

"How did you convince him?"

The question falls like the blade of an axe, and when Hadrian speaks, his voice has lost half its confidence.

"Well, I explained to him all the opportunities it could open to him… and then he… I guess he just slept on it and realized that I was right…"

"I wonder on what else did he sleep," says the King.

"Father, I... I'm afraid I'm not following..."

"How did you convince him?" the King repeats.

No answer comes. I'm dying to look at them, but I dare not.

There's a movement, and then Hadrian lets out a yelp of surprise and pain.

"You're an embarrassment," the King says through gritted teeth. "How much longer do I have to tolerate your behavior? You're just like... damn it, you disgust me."

The room goes quiet except for the remote noises coming from the castle yard. A bird chirps outside, then little wings flutter, and the room is silent again.

"You're hopeless."

I hear retreating footsteps. The King leaves the room, his guards following him suit. The door slams behind them.

I glance up.

Hadrian stands leaning on one of the bed poles, his eyes closed, his right hand massaging his left wrist. His handsome face seems expressionless, but there's tension behind his closed eyelids, and I can see his chest rising and falling heavily. Is he angry? Is he hurt? Is he holding back tears?

He stands there for a long time, long enough for the shadows on the floor to move, and for my knees to start killing me again.

At last, he shifts, and I look down. I hear him walk about the room, slowly. Then, water splashes under his hand.

"Slaves," he says flatly. "The bath is cold. Fill me a new one."

In my head, I groan with frustration.

*-------------------------------------------------------*

* If you enjoy this story, please like or comment! Thank you! *

*-------------------------------------------------------*