“Because when this little one kicks he gets what he kicks and screams for.”
“Then you shall do so no longer.”
Carlos’s scowl became almost a smile. If he was not clever, he was cunning. Philip thought of Dr Siliceo, who had always been so ready to please him. There would be others as eager to please this little Prince.
“Kings have their duties,” said Philip. “They must set an example to the people. If they behave badly their subjects will not love them.”
Carlos was considering this, and it was obvious from the expression on his face that he did not care that people should love him; he only cared that they should give him what he wanted.
“Your grandfather,” said Philip, “is a great Emperor.”
“This little one shall be a great Emperor,” said Carlos.
“You will not if you do not behave in a manner such as will please the people. You will have to do your duty and learn your lessons. How are you getting on with your reading?”
“Don’t like it.”
“Have you not learned your letters yet?”
“Don’t like,” said Carlos with finality.
“But you must try to like them.”
Carlos’s scowl-smile deepened. “Won’t do,” he said; and he laughed suddenly, doubtless recalling his latest tantrum when his nurses had tried to enforce his father’s wishes.
“Do you not want to be a learned man when you grow up?”
Carlos considered this in his sly, secret way. He was thinking, Philip knew, that he could very well get what he wanted in his present state of ignorance. Kicking, screaming himself into a passion so that his attendants and nurses feared for his health, was, he was cunning enough to know, more effective in getting him what he wanted than anything he could learn from books.
“If you would be quieter, more gentle, do as you are told and learn your lessons, I should be able to love you,” said Philip gently.
Carlos’s indifference to his father’s regard was in his answer: “His Aunt Juana loves him.”
Juana! That name again. The reminder was at times more alarming than at others.
Philip put the boy down and, going to the door, asked the guard who stood outside to bring the Princess Juana to him.
Carlos had limped to the door, hoping to make his escape, but Philip held him firmly by the shoulder. Carlos looked at his father’s hand as he contemplated digging his teeth into it; but he was not insensible to his father’s power and the fear he inspired in others. Carlos, for all his wildness, was not a coward, but at the same time he was aware that a boy of four cannot easily pit himself against a man. So he contented himself with scowling, and allowed himself to be brought back to the chair.
“Why do you want to run away, my son?”
Carlos wriggled, but would not answer.
“Are you not pleased that your father should visit you?”
Carlos continued to stare at the hands which held him, and kept his face turned away from his father’s.
At that moment Philip’s young sister Juana entered. She was a quiet girl, with a serious expression, a little afraid now, as she always had been, of her brother. She came to him and knelt.
“Juana … Juana …” cried Carlos.
Philip told her to rise, and she stood up, looking timidly at him.
“You are with the boy more than anyone,” said Philip. “Yes, your Highness.”
“Juana … Juana …” The boy was fighting free of his father’s grasp, and Philip let him go. Carlos ran to his aunt, and, half laughing, half crying, he flung his arms about her knees.
“Make him stop that,” said Philip.
“Carlos, dearest baby, be silent. You must not act thus before your father. Little one … little one … all is well.”
Carlos kept his face hidden against her skirt. “He hurt the little one, Juana. He hurt
“Hush. Hush. You must not cry before your father.”
“Little one
Little one!
“Enough! Enough!” he said.
Juana stood up, for she had knelt to comfort the boy. Philip looked at her coldly.
“You are not treating the boy as he should be treated.”
Carlos’s expression was cunning now. He said: “Juana loves him. Juana loves the little one.”
“Your Highness,” stammered Juana. “He is young yet …”
