The Towers of Samarcand

EPILOGUE

MISTRA, CHRISTMAS 1402

The snow was falling thickly on the hill of Mistra and the little courtyard of the Peribleptos Monastery was deep with it. It was the hour before dawn on Christmas Day and the monks were sleeping in, having enjoyed their annual holy supper the night before. With twelve dishes for the twelve apostles, and straw beneath the table for when the baby saviour chose to come, it had been more fun than last year. The Turks had been defeated and Mistra was still free. They’d even drunk wine.

For the three people in the crypt below the monastery church, the padded silence of snow and sleeping monks was welcome. Although Varangians kept guard at the doors and windows, what they had before them could never be revealed to anyone. For two of them, it was known. For the other, it was a revelation.

Luke, Anna and Plethon were kneeling by the side of an open casket and none of them had spoken for several minutes. Beside them was an empty grave with earth piled to one side. There were torches on the walls and their light made a nativity of the scene. It was very cold and a night creature howled from deep inside the woods beyond the city walls.

This seemed to stir Plethon. ‘We should replace the ring now and bury the casket. It’s nearly dawn.’

Luke nodded. What he’d just seen was beyond comprehension. He leant forward and placed the ring in the casket. Then he took Anna’s hand and found it trembling either from the cold or something else. ‘When do you think we’ll need it?’ he asked, his voice a whisper.

Plethon rubbed his eyes. The casket always made him so tired. ‘Soon. Bayezid might be beaten but Suleyman lives on. And he still has a powerful army. We don’t have much time.’

Luke knew this to be true, just as he knew that the next part of Plethon’s plan would be played out in the west: in Italy. They’d talked long about Popes and Medicis and the union of Churches. Soon he’d have to go there, but not yet. He’d been appointed Protostrator of Mistra, the youngest yet. And the Protostrator’s new wife was with child, a brother or sister for Giovanni. No one would stop him being in Mistra for the birth.

He let go of Anna’s hand and, very slowly, closed the casket’s lid.