Adora

“His bier is in the palace audience chamber. The people have been passing through since yesterday.”

“Clear the hall. I would have a few minutes alone with my husband.”

Anna nodded and went silently out. She was worried by Theadora’s strange calm. The princess had yet to shed a tear. It was not natural.

Quickly she found Basil. “The princess has awakened from her swoon, my lord. She desires that the audience chamber be emptied so she may be alone with the prince.”

The chamberlain nodded. “It will be done immediately.”

Shortly after that Theadora walked alone to where her husband’s bier rested. She saw no one. In deference to her feelings even the guards had withdrawn. Pushing open the doors to the hail she entered the room. Alexander‘s bier had been placed in the center. The hall was filled with tall, beeswax candles that flickered in an oddly cheerful fashion. The room was cold.

Slowly Adora walked to the bier and gazed down at the body. They had dressed him in an azure-blue velvet robe, the Mesembrian arms embroidered in gold thread on the front of the robe. The robe cuffs, hem, and neckline were edged in ermine. Upon his softly curling blond hair they had placed the crown of Mesembria’s despot. On his chest was a gold chain and the city’s sapphire seal. His wedding ring was on his hand. On his feet were fine soft leather boots.

Adora viewed the body from all angles, walking slowly around the bier. What she saw convinced her firmly of the existence of a soul: for though the body was his, this was not truly Alexander. Without the spark of life this was only an empty shell, a cocoon without its butterfly.

She knelt at the prie-dieu set before the bier, but she did not pray. She spoke silently to him. I want to be with you. It is too great a burden to bear alone. I have not even the comfort of our child.

It is not meant to be, beauty, came his reply. Your fate is to follow a different path. I know that now.

“No!” she shouted aloud. “I will not accept that fate.”

Ah, beauty, he chided her, why do you always struggle so hard against your fate? What is meant will be. The logic of our Greek ancestors should tell you that.

Suddenly she began to weep. “Do not leave me, Alexander! Please do not leave me!”

Ah beauty, would you keep me a prisoner between the two worlds? I cannot go unless you let me. Release me from this earth of which I am no longer a part.

“No! No!”

I love you, beauty, and if you love me you must let me go. What has been between us can never be taken away. Our story is firmly engraved in the pages of the world’s history. You will always have your memories.

“Alexander!” It was an anguished cry.

Adora, please! She understood the plea. Tears poured down her face, but she did not feel them. Her heart ached so painfully that she thought it would burst. Her voice caught in her throat, but she managed to force the words out.

“Farewell, Alexander. Farewell, my beloved husband!”

“Farewell, beauty!” She heard his voice!

“Alexander!” she screamed then, but the room was silent. “Alexander!” came back the frantic, mocking echo. Slowly, she rose from her knees.

Tomorrow they would commend to God the soul of the last Heracles to rule in Mesembria, and then she would found a new dynasty whose first son, she vowed, would be called Alexander.

It rained heavily the next day, yet the streets of Mesembria were filled with silent mourners. They took strength from their queen. She sat straight on the white palfrey led by Basil. Her gown was black velvet-long-sleeved, plain, completely unadorned. She wore no jewelry but her wedding band and, upon her unbound dark hair, the small gold consort’s crown. The patriarch of Mesembria conducted the funeral mass in St. John the Baptist’s Cathedral, which had been built some four hundred years prior by Alexander’s ancestors.

Afterward the mourners made their way to the memorial park above the city where Alexander’s family had been buried. Here his coffin was placed in a marble tomb facing the sea. Ariadne’s little coffin was placed beside her father’s.

Adora performed her widow’s duties in stony silence. At the palace, she snapped when Anna questioned her. “Mourn for your husband in your way, old woman! I will mourn for mine in my way. And for my child, too, as I choose. Alexander has left me a great trust, and if I spend my time in idle weeping I shall fail him. I will never fail him!” But in the silent cold hours before dawn she wept secretly. Her grief was a private thing, not to be shared with anyone. From that moment on, Theadora refused to release herself from her feelings about either Alexander or Ariadne. What she felt about the loss of the two people closest to her heart was a matter she shared with nobody at all, from then until the day she died.

Each day she presided over her council, following the progress being made on the city’s renovations, meting out justice, working with the city’s merchants.

Then, one day, a delegation arrived from Constantinople led by a nobleman Lord Titus Timonides. Adora knew him to be an occasional lover of Helena’s. He brought two messages. The first, from Helena to her sister, was filled with a false sympathy Adora recognized immediately. She tossed the offending parchment aside and opened the second message. It was an imperial edict signed by the empress, appointing Lord Timonides governor of Mesembria. Wordlessly, Adora handed it to Basil. He quickly scanned it, then spoke aloud to the assembled council. “The empress wishes to appoint this man our governor.”

“No!” came the collective shout of outrage.

Basil turned to Timonides. “You see how it is, my lord. They do not want you. But far more important, the empress has no legal right to make such an appointment. Our charter, which is as old as this city and older than Constantinople itself, gives us the right to choose our own leaders. We have chosen the princess Theadora to rule over us.”

“But she is a woman,” came the condescending reply.

“Aye, my lord,” replied the old man. “How clever of you to notice that. She is a woman! A beautiful woman! Nonetheless a capable leader. She is Mesembria’s choice. It is not up to your empress to appoint us a ruler.”

“But the empress wants her sister to return home. In her great grief she surely needs the comfort of her family.”

Adora choked with outrage. “Helena has never had any but the most hostile feelings toward me, Titus Timonides. You know that. My beloved Alexander left me his city as a trust, and these good men of my royal council have confirmed that trust. I have not lived in Constantinople since was a child. With both my parents gone from there, the city holds no fascination for me. Mesembria is my true home, and here I will remain. Return to my sister, and tell her that. Also tell her that if she again attempts to interfere with our government, we will take the appropriate action.”

“You will regret this, princess,” snarled Timonides.

“Do you dare to threaten the queen of Mesembria?” thundered Basil. Timonides saw that about the council hands had gone to sword hilts. Their grim looks made it clear that he had gone too far. These men would not hesitate to kill him. “Get you back to your mistress, Byzantine, and give her our message. Mesembria will not be interfered with!”

Titus Timonides did not hesitate. Gathering up his party of idle courtiers and hangers-on, he returned to his ship. They sailed back to Constantinople where he sought immediate audience with the empress.

Helena received him in her bedchamber. She was looking particularly stunning in a chamber robe of sheer black silk with a painted gold design. Her long blond hair was loose about her shoulders. Reclining on one elbow on her side, she allowed the seductive outline of hip, thigh, leg and breast to be visible. Timonides felt a sense of frustrated lust, for, reclining next to Helena was the smiling current captain of her guard. While Timonides offered his report the handsome young soldier, naked save for a breechcloth, fondled the empress’s ripe breasts. At one point he even pushed his hand between Helena’s soft thighs, and dallied there.

“Why are you back here instead of in Mesembria? And where is my sister?” demanded Helena.

“Their charter allows them to choose their own ruler. They have chosen your sister. They expect her to