The Chosen Prince by Diane Stanley Page B

hadn’t considered the noise he makes—the tap of his cane, the click when the brace is released, the thump as he sits down—or the startled expression on the master’s face. His classmates turn as one and stare at Alexos. And at first they seem unable to speak or move. So much has happened since the last time they saw him, that terrible day of the festival race. And none of it was good. What can they possibly say?
    They hardly recognize him now, this boy in the long black tunic, a brace on his leg and a cane in hishand. He is shockingly thin, with bruiselike shadows beneath his eyes. And he has cut off his hair in mourning for his brother, as women do. He looks older, wounded, sick.
    After a long, awkward moment, they get up from their benches and move warily in his direction. This is something they are required to do out of courtesy, but there are no rules to guide them. How does one greet a boy who nearly died, was forever damaged by his illness, then lost his beloved brother—all in the space of a few short months? They have no idea.
    So they gather around him politely: the boys standing, Alexos still seated, because getting up would be such an embarrassing production that it would only make things worse. They mutter condolences: Oh, Alexos, so sorry, what a bad time you’ve had, it must have been awful . Not once do they allude to his cane and brace. Nor do they mention Teo, who is presumably included in all the rest.
    Alexos finds this unendurable. He wonders, not for the first time, if his father would allow him to be taught in his chambers by tutors from now on.
    The master, who has been standing at the back of the crowd, sees that the welcome is going badly; the boys aren’t up to the challenge and the prince is distressed. He makes his way to the front.
    â€œMy lord Alexos,” he says with an unaccustomed low bow, “you have been in our thoughts every day since you fell ill. We sacrificed to Zeus and Athene and Apollo to bring you safely through your ordeal.” The boys all nod energetically at this: Yes, it’s true, we did! “We were most relieved when we heard that you had survived. Most relieved.
    â€œBut even then,” the master goes on, “your ordeal was not over. You were left with paralysis in your legs. The royal physician has told me of your struggle to build up your strength again, so that you could walk with a cane. It was painful and difficult, he said, but you fought like a lion.” The boys let out sighs almost in unison.
    Alexos is transfixed by the master’s performance. Get it all out there , he thinks, that must be the plan: speak the unspeakable. He feels a twitch at the corners of his mouth, as if a smile was trying to form.
    â€œAnd then—forgive me for mentioning this if it’s too painful to hear—but just as you had grown strong again and were ready to return to life, an even greater tragedy struck.”
    Oh, thank you for that , Alexos thinks. Thank you for knowing that that was the worst.
    â€œThe loss of our dear prince Matteo, so beloved by everyone who knew him, was devastating for us all.We sacrificed again to the gods for the speedy progress of his soul into that happy place where the good live for all eternity. But, Alexos, our sorrow was nothing, nothing compared with what you must have felt. I know you were ill with grief. I would guess it was the worst thing that has ever happened in your life.”
    â€œYes!” Alexos says. He is so grateful that this man, the quietest master in the school, always so strict, dull, and precise, has the wisdom and the daring to say these very hard things out loud.
    â€œI wish you to know that we were with you through the whole journey. You are one of us, Alexos. Your princely status may set you apart, but these boys are your friends and they care about you. They have mourned your every sorrow. And now they want to welcome you back with the full understanding of