The Towers of Samarcand

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

THE ROAD TO CONSTANTINOPLE, AUTUMN 1402

It took Luke and Anna only three days to reach Chios. They rode as hard as the rain and road allowed and stopped only once for Anna to change horses. They spoke little: Anna numb with the pleasure of a recent transaction, Luke thinking hard of how to stop Tamerlane from entering Constantinople. He remembered again and again what Mohammed Sultan had said to him in the church.

The last time that our armies came into Europe, they were stopped by the death of the Khan … It might happen again.

But how? Shulen had poisoned him once but she was a long way behind, bringing Mohammed Sultan to his grandfather slowly on a litter. Anyway, Zoe was apparently with Tamerlane every moment of the day and night.

They reached the sea in the evening and commandeered a boat to take them to Chios. And as they crossed the straits, Luke’s thoughts turned to something else. He’d been aware of a strange excitement growing alongside his worry, gradually nudging it aside as they got closer to Chios: he was to meet his son. He was about to meet Giovanni on Chios and he felt giddy with yearning.

But it wasn’t to be. They arrived late at night at the Giustiniani Palace to be told that Tamerlane had left and that Fiorenza had taken Giovanni to Sklavia and was not expected to return within the week.

So Anna was surprised to wake up the next morning to find a woman of great beauty standing next to her bed holding hands with a boy. She knew immediately who they were.

Fiorenza. Fiorenza and Giovanni.

The woman spoke. ‘We are deserted. The men have all left. Luke too.’

Anna looked at the pair. Fiorenza was dressed in a high-collared tunic of brushed silk, cream and without pattern. Her head was uncovered and on her feet were green slippers. The boy was dressed in Genoese miniature: doublet and hose, both in matching blue, and boots of calfskin. He was looking at the floor and his hair was the colour of corn.

Fiorenza spoke again. ‘I’ve been at Sklavia. I came back when I heard that Tamerlane had left. But it seems he’s taken my husband with him.’ She paused. ‘Luke has told me much about you.’

Anna sat up in the bed, studying the woman. ‘As I of you. You’ve been kind to him. Do you know where he’s gone?’

Fiorenza produced a scroll. ‘I found this in his room.’

It was addressed to Anna. She took the scroll and opened it. Inside was a ring and a message: ‘Catch up with Plethon and give this to him but avoid Zoe at all costs. I will join you as soon as I can. I love you.’

She reread the message, certain that someone else had done the same. She looked up to find her hostess guileless and smiling, two dimples bracketing her perfect mouth. She wondered again where Luke had gone. Had he had a message from Shulen? Probably.

Fiorenza turned to her son. ‘Giovanni.’ The boy lifted his head and Anna’s breath left her. A wave of panic surged up her body and she put a hand out to steady herself on the bed. She had to stop herself from crying out.

Luke.

The boy bowed from the waist and straightened up. He smiled. He was Luke. Luke with dimples. There was no doubt. If it wasn’t obvious in his size, his hair, his chin, then it shone from his blue, blue eyes.

You are Luke’s son.

She was aware that she was staring at the boy but couldn’t wrench her eyes away. It was as if Luke was reborn, refashioned in the skin of a child. She wanted to touch him.

‘I see you are taken with my son.’

Anna forced herself to look up at Fiorenza.

She knows I know.

Small spots of colour had emerged high in the Princess of Trebizond’s cheeks. The dimples had disappeared and there was calculation in her eyes. ‘It is possible he reminds you of another?’

Anna felt the blood rush to her face. She knew that she was trembling and cursed the hands that betrayed it. She breathed in. ‘I’m sorry.’ She put out her hand. ‘Giovanni.’

The boy bowed again, still smiling, and took her hand. Fiorenza said: ‘I mean to go to my husband. You?’

Anna nodded. ‘I’ll go to Plethon. And your son?’

Fiorenza paused for a moment. Then she said: ‘He will return to Sklavia. There are horses waiting.’

*

The stench of Smyrna was more than even Tamerlane could stand. The smell of rotting corpses, lifted by fire and autumn wind, penetrated every corner of the citadel so that half of his court performed their duties masked. Tamerlane soon left the city for Constantinople. He travelled by elephant with just Zoe and a servant in his howdah and Pir Mohammed, Sigismund, Manuel and Plethon in the howdah behind. Marchese Longo and the signore rode at the head of a regiment of gautchin that brought up the rear. The army was left to rest in Smyrna and would follow later.

The road had been Byzantine, therefore wide and level, and the ride was comfortable. The summer had extended its reach into autumn and a hot sun turned leaves into fire before they fell from the poplars that lined the road. Beyond the trees were villages without people and fields without livestock. Humanity had disappeared with its food. It was if the last judgement had come and gone without anyone caring to tell the Mongol army. Only the kourtchi, riding ahead, had seen the road into Bursa clogged with people desperate to seek refuge behind the city’s walls.

So none saw the passing of this strange calvacade. None saw the two elephants, their mahouts sitting astride painted faces whose steady grins rocked between giant tusks; or the jornufa or ostrich or two donkeys wearing the tall white hats of the janissary corps. None saw the four bullocks that followed, pulling a wagon with a cage upon it in which a clown sat in misery: Bayezid; Yildirim; Sultan of the Ottomans, a man hardly visible through the filth on his bars.

News came from Ankara. Mohammed Sultan would meet his grandfather somewhere along the road to Bursa. For Zoe, this was the first piece of bad news for some time; she’d hoped Mohammed Sultan would be too ill to travel and didn’t want his words of reason anywhere near her lover’s ear.

Tamerlane had started the journey in the best of spirits. Zoe had used every skill in her repertoire to bring him to grunting ecstasy in the bed of the Grand Master of the Hospitallers. Now he lay against the cushions of the howdah while she read to him, watching the of the young mahout as it swung from side to side with the rhythm of the beast. The music was sweet and the air sweeter than anything he’d breathed in a week. Tamerlane was happy.

*

Having sent Giovanni to Sklavia, Fiorenza joined the party as it left Manisa. She rode alongside her husband as it passed through Akhisar, barked at by dogs and stared at by cats but otherwise unnoticed. On the third evening, they arrived at the bridge at Sultancayir, just short of the city of Karasi, capital of the beylik of that name, the first neighbour to be annexed by the Ottomans sixty years past. They were two hundred miles from Constantinople. There was a Byzantine castle on a hill there, abandoned by its Turkish sipahi owner, where Tamerlane’s guests would be housed for the night. Tamerlane would pitch his tent at the bottom.

*

Much later, one guest awoke to receive a summons to meet Tamerlane in his tent, alone. Matthew dressed quickly, woke Nikolas to tell him where he was going, and tiptoed from the room. He assumed the summons had something to do with Luke. In the castle stable, he found his horse, saddled it and led it across the sleeping courtyard, through the gate and on to the path outside. He mounted and rode down the hill. He had no difficulty in recognizing Tamerlane’s ger. It was the largest and had the flag of the Celestial Conjunction outside, just visible in the moonlight. Two gautchin stood guard on either side of its entrance. They recognised Matthew and lifted the flap for him to enter.

Inside it was dim and very warm and the air smelt of wine. Tamerlane’s giant bed, with braziers at each corner, stood in the centre. Veil upon veil of diaphanous material had been ripped from its frame and a copper bath was up-ended at its foot. The remains of a meal were scattered across the carpet. At first Matthew thought that he was alone in the tent. Except for the crackle of fire in the stove, it was entirely quiet. Then he saw a shape move on the bed and his heart missed a beat.

Zoe.

He turned to go.

‘It’s all right. He’s on the floor, too drunk to know anything. I’ve seen it before.’The words were muffled, as if spoken from below a pillow or from broken lips. It sounded like the voice of one in pain. Something was wrong.

‘Are you hurt?’ he whispered.

She laughed. There was the brush of fur on fur as she moved. ‘Yes, I’m hurt.’

Matthew strained to see. ‘Tamerlane?’

He heard slow, careful movement from one finding movement painful. ‘I am split and torn and bruised in places I didn’t think it possible to hurt.’ She paused. ‘He is an animal.’

Matthew heard a snore from the far side of the ger, then a grunt, like some beast stirring in its bestial dream. He moved slowly over to the bed. She was lying on a sheet beneath furs and her back was to him. She was probably naked. He said: ‘He called for me.’

Zoe sighed. ‘He didn’t call for you, I did. I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Zoe, his guards are outside.’

‘No they’re not. I told them to go as soon as you arrived. They’re getting drunk somewhere.’

Matthew glanced at the tent entrance. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

‘About Chios,’ she said. Her palm patted the bed behind her. ‘Sit. We can talk and then you can go.’

Matthew sat.

Zoe turned her head slightly to him. She paused before speaking. ‘Temur tells me that Luke saved Mohammed Sultan’s life at Ankara. He says they love each other as brothers now. Which is why Luke stayed there instead of coming here.’

Matthew frowned. ‘Luke stayed at Ankara because he was too sick to travel.’

‘Are you sure? I think Luke has deserted you. He has new friends now.’

Matthew was shaking his head. ‘Luke is a Varangian.’

‘He’s also ambitious. Just look at what he’s learnt over the past two years. He’s left the rest of you behind.’

Matthew remained silent. He wanted to leave.

‘You know that he has Plethon’s trust,’ went on Zoe, ‘particularly in the matter of the treasure. What you don’t know is how he’s abused that trust. We went into Constantinople, he and I, before Nicopolis, to look for it. He wanted to take it for himself.’ She paused and her head turned a little further. ‘Just like his grandfather.’

Matthew rose. He’d never believed the story that Luke’s grandfather had stolen the treasure. He wouldn’t believe it now.

‘Sit down, Matthew,’ Zoe said quietly. ‘I haven’t finished.’

He took a deep breath. ‘I don’t want to hear any more.’

He heard the rustle of sheets as Zoe turned her body. He didn’t look round.

‘I have a proposition for you, Matthew,’ she said. ‘Help me rule Chios. I’ll need someone to keep all those signori in order, someone strong. You can bring the other two as well. You’ll all be rich.’

Matthew exhaled slowly. His mind was churning. ‘And Luke?’

‘Luke has made other plans. And they don’t include you.’

Matthew said: ‘Temur won’t honour your agreement any more than he has any other. He’ll tire of you, Zoe. He might kill you.’

She laughed then. ‘I’m sure he might. But I will poison him before that happens. I have good poison from Venice. Look, I have it here. I carry it always.’

Zoe tossed a narrow belt on to the floor. Matthew stooped to pick it up. It had two lumps in the fabric. Two doses of poison; two just to be sure. Matthew stared at it. He wanted to be as far away from this tent as it was possible to be. He had to get out into the air, away from her musk, away from her madness. Away from the monster asleep on the floor. He made to go.

‘You’ll regret it.’ Her voice was calm.

He walked to the door of the tent.

‘Did you know that he means to take Constantinople?’ she asked. ‘How big will the guard he takes inside the city be, do you think? Just his regiment of gautchin? What will he do to the poor citizens when he knows that Manuel ferried Suleyman’s army to safety?’ Her voice stayed low. ‘And what do you think he’ll do to Anna when I tell him that she tried to bring a crusade to fight him?’ She paused. ‘I wouldn’t leave, if I were you.’

But Matthew suddenly needed more than air. He pulled aside the tent-flap and stepped into the night.

Outside the tent were four soldiers of the gautchin, their swords drawn.

*

A mile to the south, Anna was riding towards the bridge at Sultancayir, with her paizi as apparent as she could make it in the moonlight and a ring in her pocket. In her mind was only one thought, one question.

How can he not be Luke’s son?

And how could Marchese Longo not see it? Or perhaps he did. Why did Luke do it?

Why did you betray me?

The first campfires of the gautchin appeared on either side of the road and a soldier rose from the sleeping figures. She raised her veil and showed him the paizi and went through. Soon she was climbing the path to the castle. At the top, she dismounted and led her horse under the gate. A Mongol appeared and she showed the paizi. ‘The Lord Plethon,’ she said.

The servant didn’t understand. She managed to convey a toga and length of beard and the man nodded. He led her up some steps and along a passage to a door. He left her.

She pushed the door half open. ‘Plethon?’ She hoped she sounded less frightened than she was.

Plethon was in bed, reading. ‘Come in. Don’t worry, Tamerlane is in his tent at the bottom of the hill, with Zoe.’

Anna walked over to the bed and sat down. ‘You were awake.’

Plethon put down the book and lifted himself against the pillows. The night was cool and he pulled the blanket up with him. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking. And you?’

Anna nodded.

‘Of Luke?’

Anna didn’t answer. She looked down at her hands, which, she saw, were joined as if in prayer.

‘Of a tall boy who looks like Luke?’

Anna looked up. The philosopher’s face was quite clear in the moonlight. He was not smiling.

‘So it’s true?’ she whispered.

‘You know it’s true,’ said Plethon. ‘You can see it. The question is: why?’

‘And do you have the answer?’

He studied her hands, clenched in hope that he might. He shook his head. ‘No. Only two people have that.’ He looked up at her. ‘Where is Luke?’

Anna sighed. She closed her eyes and rocked back on the bed. ‘He left me at Chios but didn’t say where he’d gone. Probably to Shulen. He gave me this to give to you.’

She took the ring from her pocket and gave it to Plethon. He studied it closely. He said: ‘I have been visited by Maria tonight. She is Zoe’s handmaiden. She will act as go-between. She told me that she’d seen Zoe meet with someone this evening, someone she recognised. Fiorenza.’

Anna frowned. ‘Why would Zoe meet with Fiorenza?’

Plethon shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But she told me something about Fiorenza. She was the one who fled Trebizond with the Venetian who stole the alum trade from the Genoese.’

Something connected in Anna’s brain.

Of course. Fiorenza was Maria’s cousin in Trebizond. But why meet Zoe?

‘Why is this important, Plethon?’

‘Because someone on Chios has been giving Venice information. Could it have been Fiorenza? Has she been betraying her husband to her old Venetian lover?’

The philosopher was shaking his head, lost in the riddle. Anna rose. She was interested in a different betrayal and wanted very much to talk to Fiorenza. ‘Where does she sleep?’ she asked, moving to the door.

Plethon looked up. ‘You may not hear what you want to hear.’

She turned. ‘I want the truth, Plethon.’

*

Not long afterwards, in a room at the other end of the castle, Fiorenza heard a soft knock on her bedroom door. She was lying on a bed wet with her tears. Soldiers of the gautchin had just entered and arrested her husband. She got up from the bed, walked over to the door and opened it. Anna was carrying a candle and its light made Fiorenza’s cheeks shine like paint. Her golden hair was disordered, her eyes red, but her back was straight. She was, after all, a princess from Trebizond.

She glanced beyond Anna into the dark corridor. ‘It’s dangerous for you to be here.’

‘It’s dangerous to be alive, Fiorenza,’ said Anna. ‘I must speak with you.’

Fiorenza stepped aside and Anna entered the room. She put the candle on to a table and looked around her. ‘Is there somewhere to sit?’

Fiorenza went over to the bed and sat down. The air smelt of must but there was a fire in the grate and the room was warm. She said: ‘I know why you’ve come.’ Her face was a mask of misery.

Anna breathed deeply. ‘Giovanni is Luke’s son.’ It was said quietly, not a question.

The Princess was still for a while. Then she dipped her head.

Anna felt numb. There was only one question to ask. ‘Why?’

Fiorenza looked away. ‘He was forced to. I drugged him.’ She paused for several moments, summoning the words. ‘We wanted a child and Longo couldn’t. So I used Luke.’ Fiorenza turned and there were tears in her eyes. ‘He loves you, Anna,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a love like it.’

Anna stared at the woman beside her. This was not the same woman she’d first met four days ago and she had no doubt that she was telling the truth. She closed her eyes, wanting to savour the sweetness of Fiorenza’s words, to let them tumble in the whirl of her mind, then come to rest. She opened them again to see that Fiorenza was crying. She took her hand. ‘What is it?’ she asked softly. ‘Where is Longo?’

‘You must go.’

‘Is it what Zoe said to you?’ Anna squeezed her hand. ‘I have been with Plethon. We know of your meeting with Zoe. Perhaps we can help.’

Fiorenza shook her head. ‘It’s too late.’

‘What’s too late?’

The Princess from Trebizond straightened. She took a handkerchief from her sleeve and brought it to her face, wiping her nose, her eyes. ‘I have betrayed my husband. I have betrayed the signori. They’ve all been arrested.’

Anna took Fiorenza in her arms and held her tightly. ‘What have you done, Fiorenza?’ she whispered into her hair.

Fiorenza was breathing hard between the sobs. ‘I have betrayed the signori to Tamerlane just as I have betrayed them to Venice all these years.’

Anna drew away. ‘But why?’

‘Because of love,’ came the soft answer. ‘Because of love for a man called Pavlos Mamonas.’ She wiped her eyes with her hand and looked at Anna. ‘Love makes you do strange things, but then you know that.’

‘You love Pavlos Mamonas?’

‘Did love. No longer.’

‘So why betray them now?’

Fiorenza screwed her eyes shut, unable to stop the tears, stop the pain. ‘Because the man I loved has a daughter who holds my son.’ Fiorenza’s grip on Anna’s hand was tightening. ‘She would have killed him if I hadn’t confirmed her story.’

‘What story?’

‘That they sent the Varangian Matthew to kill Tamerlane.’

The shock made Anna start. Matthew sent to kill Tamerlane? It didn’t make sense; then it did.

Zoe wants the signori dead before Luke and Mohammed Sultan get here.

Fiorenza opened her eyes. ‘They will all die. Tomorrow. All except Longo. I had to … for Giovanni.’

Anna had to do something. She released Fiorenza and rose. ‘I must return to Plethon.’ She paused. ‘One thing I don’t understand. How could you betray a man like Marchese Longo to Pavlos Mamonas for all that time?’

Fiorenza shook her head slowly. ‘I told you. I loved him. I loved him until …’

‘Until?’

Fiorenza stared at Anna. ‘Until Giovanni arrived. Then everything changed. I loved someone else.’

Anna saw the truth set out in all its misery before her. She’d looked for it and there it was. She wanted to ask something else but knew that Fiorenza wasn’t listening any more. The Princess was staring into the fire and the embers in her eyes were just one small corner of the hell that burnt all around her.

*

The next morning, the manacled signori filed into the castle hall to find Tamerlane already there and seated in a chair, watching them from beneath a frown deep enough to hide armies. He was not wearing his spectacles. Zoe was sitting on the marble floor beside him, her body resting against his legs, her face expressionless. She wore the simple white caftan of the slave.

Marchese Longo was kneeling next to Dimitri and had just seen the tapestry beside him move. He glanced up. Tamerlane had risen and was walking slowly down the hall towards them, his uneven tread scraping on the marble. He stopped and let out a long sigh.

‘You Italians. Always scheming.’ He spat on the ground. ‘You sent your assassin to kill me in my tent. But he did not find me there, so he tried to rape my bride instead. Do you expect mercy?’

There was shocked silence in the hall. Then Longo spoke. ‘Lord, what assassin? We know of no assassin.’

‘The Varangian. Is he not one of you?’

Longo was bewildered.

Luke is in Ankara.

‘Lord …’

But Tamerlane’s hand was in the air and two dozen tapestries parted as one to reveal men with bows aimed at the signori’s hearts. ‘You have betrayed me. All of you.’

A door behind opened and two soldiers came in dragging Matthew between them. He’d been beaten and his face was a mass of blood. They brought him to Tamerlane and pushed him to the floor. Tamerlane took a handful of his hair, forcing his head up. ‘Look upon the face of a traitor, Genoese. He was found in my tent last night with poison in his belt. He will die and you will die. It is just.’

Longo had dared to get to his feet. ‘Lord, this is madness. We don’t even know this man. The Varangian whom we admitted to our campagna is the man called Luke Magoris. This man is a stranger.’

Tamerlane was shaking his head. ‘You lie. Someone of your island has told me the truth: that you sent this man to kill me. And your Luke Magoris? I favoured him but it turns out he lied as well. You all lie and you will all die.’

*

An hour later, Tamerlane was riding towards the bridge, Zoe beside him. The morning was fair and the landscape around as motionless as a theatre set, winter’s cold waiting in its wings. The signori walked in chains behind and there were gautchin on either side of them carrying ropes. Behind them marched the rest of Temur’s bodyguard but without Varangians at their head.

Arcadius and Nikolas had left earlier to try to intercept Luke and Mohammed Sultan. Matthew hadn’t returned from his night meeting with Tamerlane and they’d guessed that he’d gone to Luke.

Last of all came Anna, still disguised as a messenger, hand in hand with Fiorenza, who walked with her head bowed. As Anna made her way to the bridge she was joined by Plethon. After meeting with Fiorenza the night before, Anna had returned to his room to tell him all that she’d heard. But when she’d tried to find him in the morning, he’d gone. Now Plethon was beside her. She wondered if he’d used the ring.

She turned to him. ‘Have you seen her?’ she whispered.

‘Who?’

‘Zoe. With the ring.’

Plethon shook his head. ‘It’s too late for that, I’m afraid.’

Fiorenza stumbled next to her. Anna helped her back to her feet. The Princess hadn’t spoken since they’d set out. Anna turned back to Plethon but he’d disappeared.

At the foot of the bridge were four chests, their lids open, with gold coins heaped inside. Tamerlane had decided that the signori would end their lives as they’d led them: with their pockets stuffed with gold. He would take them to the top of the bridge, tie them back to back and then push them into the river. The gold would drag them to the bottom and he’d enjoy watching them struggle against each other before they died.

Especially Longo.

Vaguely, he wondered whether Zoe would allow him some sport with Longo’s widow after her husband had died. For Tamerlane, there was entertainment to be had in tears. He dismounted, walked over to the open chests and peered inside. He knelt and plunged his hands into one, lifting them so that the coins ran through his fingers, clinking as they fell. He looked back at Longo. ‘I’m going to give you all this,’ he said. ‘I’m going to share it out amongst you.’

Longo had guessed what was to happen to them. He’d seen the guards with the rope and the furious river below. He’d heard of the many, many ways that this man had devised to kill people and saw the twisted logic of this one. He vaguely wondered how they’d retrieve the gold from the riverbed. He’d not seen his wife and hoped she wouldn’t have to witness it.

But she would. When the men in front had stopped, Fiorenza, Anna and Plethon had walked forward, keeping well behind Zoe. They arrived to see Longo and Dimitri tied back to back being dragged up the bridge, Tamerlane following behind.

Fiorenza began to run forward, her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. ‘Not him!’ she cried. ‘She said he’d be spared!’

Anna caught her and gripped her arms, turning the woman to face her. ‘She lied, Fiorenza. She always lies. She doesn’t want any of the signori to join her on Chios. But she still has Giovanni. You must control yourself.’

Fiorenza was staring past Anna. ‘But …’

‘You must remain quiet,’ said Anna, shaking her. ‘If you try to interfere’ — she glanced behind her to where Zoe sat on her horse, apparently unaware of their presence — ‘your son … Longo’s son, will die.’

Longo’s son. Luke’s son.

Fiorenza nodded slowly. She rose to her feet and Anna held on to her, keeping her standing. In front were the signori, chained and guarded, and in front of them was Zoe, looking directly ahead. Beyond was the bridge. It was long and high and they couldn’t see over to its other side, but they heard the river below. Swollen by autumn rains, it was deep and fast and full of rocks.

Ahead, Tamerlane was walking up the bridge and looking at the sun, taking pleasure from its warmth upon his face. Perhaps he would stay in this country for a while, enjoy Constantinople with his new wife. Perhaps he’d have two capitals as the Romans once had. He closed his eyes and didn’t notice that he was reaching the top. He heard talk in front of him. He opened his eyes to see that the two gautchin and their charges had stopped and were looking over the crest. Tamerlane walked up to them.

In front of him, over the brow of the bridge, was a big horse with a tall, fair man on its back. The man had a bow in his hand and at his side was a sword with a dragon head for a hilt. Even without his glasses, Tamerlane knew who it was. He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Varangian! You are Horatius! Or is it Leonidas? But he had three hundred and you are only one. What is this?’

There was no answer.

‘Are you so keen to die?’

Luke lifted the bow. Its arrow was pointing at Tamerlane. Neither of the gautchin on the bridge had bows and they were too far away to reach him with their swords.

‘Ah, you will kill me!’ The old man clapped his hands. ‘But that’s suicide for everyone.’ He gestured behind him. ‘If I die, they all die. The Genoese, your emperor … all of them.’

Luke said: ‘Bring forward the wife of Lord Longo. Alone.’

Longo, on his knees with Dimitri bound behind him, shouted: ‘No!’

Tamerlane laughed. ‘You’d have her plead for her husband’s life? Why not?’ He turned and shouted behind him: ‘Have the wife of the Genoese leader come to me. Quickly!’

Anna was still holding Fiorenza by the arm but the next moment the Princess had broken free and was running past the signore, past Zoe, and on to the bridge. For a moment, Zoe looked as if she would follow her. But she reined in her horse and sat perfectly still.

Tamerlane watched Fiorenza come towards him, his hands on his hips. Ahead, Longo had managed to angle his body so that he could see her too. As she approached, Tamerlane turned back to Luke. ‘Can she begin?’

Luke stared at Fiorenza. He hadn’t seen her for a long time and, if anything, her beauty was greater than ever, perfectly poised between youth and age and seeming to reflect the season around them. Luke spoke to her. ‘Lady, I have your son.’

He turned his head and whistled and Giovanni emerged from behind a tree at the bottom of the bridge. The boy ran up to Eskalon and was lifted into the saddle. Luke held him to his front and said: ‘He was being held at Sklavia on the orders of Zoe.’

Tamerlane scratched his head. He was frowning. ‘Why?’

‘To persuade the Princess Fiorenza to lie to you, lord. Did she tell you that the signori sent the Varangian to kill you?’

Tamerlane nodded.

Fiorenza had arrived next to Tamerlane. She seemed composed. She said: ‘I lied to you, lord, because Zoe held my son. She said that you’d spare my husband.’

Tamerlane grunted. He said to Luke: ‘But what of the poison found on the Varangian?’

Luke had lifted the bow again. ‘Zoe’s poison was found on him, lord. Poison probably meant for you some day.’

Tamerlane snorted. ‘Why would she want the Genoese to die?’

‘Because the Genoese stand in her way.’ He paused. ‘As you will one day.’

Tamerlane looked behind him, down to the bottom of the bridge where Zoe still sat, out of earshot. He stood like that for some time. Then he turned back to Luke. ‘But you lied as well, Varangian,’ he said. ‘You told me you were married to the one who eased my pain.’

‘Her name is Shulen, lord.’ Luke’s hands were steady on the bow and Eskalon stood motionless beneath him. ‘And she saved your life.’

‘So why did you deny her to me?’

‘Because your heir was in love with her. Would you have bedded the one Mohammed Sultan wanted for his wife?’

Tamerlane was silent again, his big head thrust forward in thought, his world suddenly more complicated. He looked up. ‘Luke.’ It was the first time that Tamerlane had used his name. ‘You point an arrow at me to make me release the Genoese, which I will do.’ He shouted something to the gautchin, who began to untie Longo and Dimitri. ‘But you won’t kill me because if you do, there’ll be nothing left that you love. Including you.’

Luke said nothing and the arrow remained pointed at Tamerlane’s heart. The hand that held the bowstring had begun to tremble.

The last time that they turned back was on the death of the Khan.

Tamerlane continued: ‘You can have your signori but you won’t save Constantinople. I may not marry her there but then it hardly matters. It was just an excuse to enter. I want to destroy it.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s my way.’

Luke said nothing. He could release the arrow and Constantinople would be saved. But Anna was on the other side of the bridge. His arm began to ache.

Tamerlane had begun to limp slowly towards him. He said: ‘I have favoured you, Luke, because you are brave and beloved of my heir. If you stay with me, you can have everything you want. A kingdom? It’s yours.’ He came on. ‘We can conquer the world together.’

Luke said: ‘Come no closer, lord. I have already conquered with you. I want no more part in it.’

Tamerlane had stopped. His head was on one side. ‘Then I have lost?’

Luke looked beyond Tamerlane and nodded. He lowered the bow and lifted Giovanni to the ground. The boy ran to his mother, soon joined by Longo. Luke kicked Eskalon and came up to Tamerlane. He dismounted. ‘We have both lost, lord,’ he said quietly. ‘Look behind you.’

There was commotion amongst the gautchin at the bottom of the bridge. Some had taken off their helmets and were kneeling on the ground. A deep murmur was spreading through the ranks. Someone was making their way through them. Someone important, someone who could make the gautchin kneel.

Mohammed Sultan.

Tamerlane had turned and was watching the scene before him unfold. In front of him, the ranks of the gautchin had begun to part. By now, every soldier was on his knees, every head bowed, every helmet clutched to a chest. The men’s murmur had subsided, leaving only silence in its place. Luke could hear the squeak of wood on stone. Something with wheels was being pulled. Two heads came into view.

Shulen and Khan-zada.

They were dressed for mourning: long, heavy gowns reaching to their feet. Their faces were hooded, hidden. They were walking on either side of a litter being pulled by men.

Tamerlane took a step backwards. He didn’t want what these women were here to give him. He didn’t want to hear what they had to tell him. He fell to his knees and his head hit the ground in front of him, his hands covering his ears. Luke heard a deep moan.

The wheels stopped but the women kept walking until they were standing over him. Khan-zada knelt and took Tamerlane’s shoulders in her hands and raised him from the ground. She brought the terror of the world, sobbing, into her breast.

‘He is come,’ she whispered.

Tamerlane’s great shoulders were heaving with the fathomless grief rising within him. He hadn’t shed tears like this since the death of Jahangir. But he was much older now and it seemed that his ancient frame could no longer contain such sorrow. ‘When?’ he asked.

‘A week past. It was a fever. There was nothing we could do.’

He said: ‘It was the journey. I made him do it.’

Khan-zada shook her head. ‘It would have happened anyway. It was his time.’

The two women turned and, Tamerlane between them, walked slowly back towards the kneeling gautchin, Luke following behind. As they approached, the ranks opened as men fell back to let them pass. A wagon harnessed to two horses came into view. On one side of it stood Yakub and Anna, on the other Pir Mohammed and Plethon.

The women led Tamerlane up to the wagon and then stepped back. The old man put his hands on its sides and leant over. For a long while he stood there without moving, perhaps without breathing. He looked down upon the man who had been his grandson and his heir and whose goodness was now hidden forever from the world behind closed eyes. He let out a long, agonised groan and Pir Mohammed stepped forward lest he fall. Tamerlane turned to him.

‘Grandson, we go home,’ he said quietly. ‘Tell the generals that the army marches home to Samarcand. The Khan is dead.’

There was movement from within the gautchin and Zoe, no longer mounted, came forward. ‘Lord, we have unfinished business here,’ she said.

Tamerlane was shaking his head. What other business was there but taking his heir back to Samarcand? He stared at her.

‘The Genoese, lord,’ she whispered. She removed the phial of poison from beneath her tunic. ‘Remember their plot? They must die as you planned.’

Tamerlane turned to Shulen. He looked bewildered, lost. Shulen said: ‘I have your glasses, Temur Gurgan. To help you see.’ She proffered them.

The old man took the glasses and put them on. He was fumbling as old men do. ‘What would you have me see, Shulen?’ he asked.

‘I would have you see your friends, lord.’ She paused. ‘And your enemies.’

Zoe stepped forward. ‘Temur Gurgan doesn’t need your glasses to see treason when it is before him,’ she said. ‘You have killed his heir as you planned to kill him.’

Shulen looked at Zoe for a while. They were so alike: both dark, both clever. Both strong. ‘He needs them’, she said quietly, ‘to see you better.’

But Tamerlane wanted to see someone else. He looked down at his heir and reached down and parted his hair, leaving his hand resting on Mohammed Sultan’s cold forehead. He looked back at Shulen and there was mist on his glasses. Gently, she removed them and wiped them clean on her sleeve. She put them back on to his nose. ‘Temur Gurgan, I could not have killed Mohammed Sultan,’ she said softly.

Zoe said: ‘No? You’ve been nursing him since the battle. You needed something to stop Temur Gurgan from taking Constantinople. You killed his heir and brought him here.’

Khan-zada had come forward to stand next to her daughter, taking her hand. She said: ‘Father, Shulen was Mohammed Sultan’s sister. She loved him as a brother. She would not have killed him.’ She paused and looked at Yakub. ‘Temur Gurgan, you must know that I loved another before Jahangir. Our child was Shulen.’

Tamerlane stared at her, his mouth open. ‘You loved another before Jahangir?’

She lowered her head. ‘As I learnt to love your son, lord,’ she said softly.

‘Who was he?’

Yakub said: ‘It was I, lord.’

Tamerlane was shaking his head, his mind exhausted by revelation. He suddenly wanted very much to be in a tent in a garden outside Samarcand. But a realisation was slowly taking shape. He turned to Shulen. ‘You are of Genghis’s line,’ he said quietly. ‘If you are daughter to Khan-zada, then you are of the blood.’

There was noise behind them. They turned and saw that Zoe was pushing her way back through the ranks from which she’d just emerged. Men were rising to let her pass. They looked towards Tamerlane.

He saw her and said: ‘Let her go.’

Luke looked at Tamerlane as he watched her leave. His eyes, enormous in their magnification, were old and tired and full of grief. But they were no longer mad. Luke looked at Tamerlane and knew that he was now free, that Constantinople would remain free. Zoe had known it too and Luke knew that she wouldn’t come back.