The Walls of Byzantium

CHAPTER FIVE

MONEMVASIA, SPRING 1394

On the following evening, Luke was surprised to find himself amongst the liveried grooms standing at the gates to Monemvasia, awaiting the arrival of the Mamonas heir and his bethrothed.

The sun was making its slow descent to meet the hills above Gefira and shining directly into his eyes, making it difficult for him to see much beyond the first bend of the road that wound its way up from the port to the city gate.

Next to him stood his father, dressed in full Varangian garb. He looked at the corselet of gilded scales, the red tunic, the dark blue chlamys, clasped on the right shoulder and at the great two-handed axe that rested against his father’s side and he wished he’d never ridden out to the stud that day. But then, would he have found Eskalon?

In front sat Zoe on a white palfrey whose caparison embroidered with black castles shifted against its rump as it moved. He hadn’t seen her since the Archon had passed sentence on him. He’d heard she’d been abroad, visiting the Mamonas businesses. Damian, still an invalid, had been left behind.

Luke thought of the previous evening when he’d come to the palace between two guards, neither of whom was quite certain what to do with him.

They’d asked at the entrance for Pavlos Mamonas, only to be told that he was discussing the forthcoming wedding with the Metropolitan who had just arrived from the capital. Instead, Zoe had appeared.

She’d changed. The voluptuousness that had always seemed imminent had now settled on her like a rich mantle. How dramatically different, thought Luke, to Anna’s fair loveliness. They were as night and day and they were to live together under the same roof.

Zoe had dismissed the guards and they’d walked together into the palace. She’d given him wine and he’d been so surprised that he’d not heard her first words.

‘I asked you how the ride back was, Luke,’ Zoe was saying. ‘Hardly original, I know, but one has to start a conversation somewhere, especially when it’s been so long since the last one.’

Luke didn’t answer. However long ago the last meeting, he still remembered the part Zoe had played in it.

Then she smiled again. ‘It seems my family is getting practised at doing you wrong, Luke,’ she said. ‘First there was the business with the stallion and now this.’

Luke was watching her closely. Was this the real Zoe?

‘From what I’ve heard,’ she went on, ‘it would appear that my brother’s intended bride owes you her life.’

She paused. ‘I suppose you must hate me, Luke, after the lies I told my father.’

Luke remained silent.

‘Do you know why I lied?’ She turned away from him to look out of a window. ‘If you hadn’t been blamed for what happened, my brother would have fallen even further in my father’s estimation. Pavlos Mamonas may love his son but he thinks little of his judgement. And judgement in business is all, Luke, especially if you are to run it.’

Luke had known this girl since birth, known her capacity to lie. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said quietly to her back. ‘You lied because you didn’t want the truth to get out. You encouraged Damian to enter that ring because you knew he might be hurt.’

She spun around, new colour in her cheeks. ‘You’d dare to suggest I would deliberately put my brother in harm’s way! Why would I do that?’

Luke studied her for several moments. ‘You know why. And it worked.’

That had been last night. Now, ahead of them on the road, the flags of the Laskaris and Mamonas families had emerged from the bend, borne aloft by two mounted men-at-arms. Behind them rode a third soldier carrying the flag of the Palaiologoi. Then Luke saw Anna riding beside Damian, her expression a mask of self-control. Damian had his eyes fixed on Luke and he looked murderous.

Zoe stepped forward to greet Anna, but before she could do so, Damian kicked his horse and stopped in front of his sister. He leant forward in his saddle. ‘What is he doing here?’ he hissed, pointing at Luke.

Zoe ignored the question. ‘Welcome, brother. Our father wishes to see you at the palace. Immediately.’

Damian looked thunderstruck.

‘Immediately,’ repeated Zoe quietly.

There was a moment’s pause; then, with a grunt, Damian kicked his horse and rode under the gate of the city.

Zoe looked around at the staring faces and smiled. She stepped forward to help Anna dismount while Luke took her horse’s reins.

When Anna was on the ground, she embraced her. ‘Anna, welcome. I have been so excited to meet you.’

Anna was unprepared for such a greeting. She leant forward to receive a kiss on each cheek. Then Zoe stepped back, still holding Anna’s hands.

‘You’re far more beautiful than the portrait they sent us,’ she smiled. ‘Mind you, that was six months ago and I dare say we all change so fast at our age.’

Then she put her arm through Anna’s, turned and took her into Monemvasia.

Later, in the throne room, Pavlos Mamonas was sitting and glaring at his son. His expression was grim. Next to him stood Zoe, her hand on the back of the throne.

‘Can you explain to me,’ he said at last, ‘what persuaded you to behave like a spoilt schoolboy on the plain before Geraki?’

‘Father-’

‘Don’t!’ snapped the Archon, raising his hand. He rose and began to pace up and down on the veined marble that surrounded the dais, his leather shoes squeaking as he turned.

He stopped in front of Damian. ‘Let me explain to you, as simply as I am able, what this alliance means to our family.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Not long ago, this Sultan’s father won a great victory at Kosovo against the Serbians.’ The Archon resumed his pacing. ‘Why was that important?’ he asked. ‘Because it meant that our empire was finally surrounded and that it was only a matter of time before it fell to the Turk. It may happen next year or in ten years, but fall it will.’

Mamonas paused again and looked at his son. Damian’s leg had begun to ache and he wanted to sit down.

‘When I die, Damian, you will inherit a trading empire that stretches across the world, one that I have nurtured by knowing whom to back. And right now, if we want to go on selling wine to the English, silk to the Italians and arms to the Turks, we would be foolish not to back Suleyman, who will be the next sultan. So whatever he wants us to do, we will do.’ Mamonas took a pace towards his son. ‘And what he wants very much at the moment, Damian, is for you to marry Anna Laskaris.’

‘But why is that so vital to his plans?’ Damian asked.

‘Because,’ said his father with some exasperation because they’d had this conversation before, ‘Suleyman wishes to take Constantinople. To do that, he will need to know that no help will come from the rest of the Empire. And the rest of the Empire these days, Damian, is the Despotate of Mistra and the fleet that resides in our ports here in Monemvasia. Suleyman wants new trust between the cities of Mistra and Monemvasia. This marriage will achieve that.’

Damian was silent. He glanced at a nearby chair and wondered if he dare sit in it. He looked at Zoe, poised at the right hand of their father. ‘I am well enough to travel,’ he said. ‘You should send me abroad as you did Zoe. I need to learn things.’

Pavlos Mamonas sighed. He walked over to his son. ‘Perhaps, Damian. But for now, just go and be nice to your wife.’

Damian limped out, leaving silence behind him. Something important had been said and Pavlos Mamonas and his daughter both knew it.

It was Pavlos who spoke first. ‘You always knew it would be thus,’ he said quietly. ‘Damian is my son. He must inherit.’

Zoe said, ‘So why did you bother to send me away if you always intended to give it all to him?’

Her father didn’t answer at first. Then he said, ‘He is my son. He must inherit.’

‘But I am better qualified.’

He knew it to be true. It had always been true.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

Some time later, Zoe stood on the terrace of the Mamonas Palace. A perfect orange orb had risen in the west and the stars were beginning to take their place in the darkening sky. The sea was all around, black and huge, its power deep beneath the shaft of restless red and gold that shivered beneath the moon. She breathed deeply and looked out at this vast desert, a desert across which her family’s floating caravans travelled to places she would not visit again. Never again.

Think. Don’t let anger cloud your judgement. There is another way.

Yes, there was another way, another empire to rule. An empire far, far larger.

Zoe lifted her head to the moon, fuller than crescent, and smiled.

Suleyman. I have his attention. Now I need his trust.

Three nights later, and at a later hour, Anna was lying in Damian’s bed.

She was alone and nervous and she kept looking at a small vial of herb essences that the Despoena had given her earlier. They were intended to heighten desire in a young bride.

Should she take it? What if Bartolomea had bought it from that charlatan they’d met on the road?

She felt nothing but cold trepidation. Was she frigid? No, she’d admired Alexis’s handsome friends and more than once had thought how nice it would be to lie with one. The problem, she had to recognize, lay with the man to whom she was now married, whose arrival she expected at any moment. It wasn’t that he was ugly, or had bad teeth, or smelt; it was simply that he was the coldest person she’d ever met. And while she was, of course, a virgin and had no experience of how to pleasure a man, she didn’t believe that she could evoke any passion in him.

Perhaps it would help if she distracted herself. There were certainly other things to think about. There was the meeting with the Archon, who had been kind and welcoming. Then there was the visit to the Head Cook, who’d taken her through the fifteen courses that would be served at her wedding feast and had made her sample the wines so that she was quite tipsy by the time Zoe had come to collect her to look at the wedding gifts. And finally, she’d met Joseph. She’d known he was Luke’s father the instant she’d seen him. It was not just his height but his eyes, which matched Luke’s and spoke of honour and goodness.

Then had come the wedding.

In the early hours, Anna had risen and been dressed in a long, sweeping dress of white crushed silk, embroidered at the sleeves and neckline in gold fleur-de-lis. On her head had been pinned a tiara, encrusted with tiny jewels, at the front of which sat an enamel castle in miniature.

The wedding itself had passed in a blur. So many people, so much music and incense. And flowers, flowers everywhere. Anna had been stifled by the heat and the attention, her dress too heavy and her shoes too tight. She’d begun to feel the panic that she’d known in the hole and had silently cursed the aged Metropolitan as he stumbled through the service with all the forgetfulness of old age.

Then it was over and she and Damian had walked back down the aisle of the Panagia Hodegetria past the Despot, past her parents and Alexis, past a thousand nods and smiles and out into the brilliant sunshine of the square where giggling girls had showered them with flowers from the balcony above. They’d walked up to the rocks behind and there, in the bay below, had sat the Byzantine fleet bedecked with bunting, the decks lined with cheering sailors. Anna had looked across at her husband and wondered how much gold had been spent to arrange such a show.

The wedding feast had been held in the gardens of the palace, where long tables, groaning with food, had sat within opensided tents and musicians with viols and tambours played beneath fruit trees. Luke, Matthew, Nikolas and Arcadius had been summoned to wait at the tables and were standing with trays of drinks when Anna arrived on the arm of her new husband. When she’d seen Luke, she’d released Damian’s arm and gone over to take a cup from his tray.

‘Your talents are endless, Luke Magoris,’ she’d smiled. ‘Horse taming to the serving of refreshment. I am glad to see you here.’

‘And I to see you, lady,’ Luke had replied, bowing. ‘On this happiest of days.’

She’d looked at him then, looked for the sarcasm but seen only goodwill. For a moment she’d allowed herself to study the broad forehead above eyes of piercing blue, the long mane of golden hair, the firm line of his jaw. Then she’d turned away.

In the middle of the lawns had stood a large pavilion of magnificent coloured silks that rustled gently in the breeze, its ropes threaded with gold and its poles garlanded with flowers. Anna had never seen anything so splendid and was admiring it when a dark figure arose from within it and came out into the sunshine.

Suleyman.

The heir to the Ottoman throne was smiling and his arms were spread in greeting. ‘This tent is my gift to you both,’ he’d said in perfect Greek as he bowed. ‘And, lady,’ he’d said, taking Anna’s hand, ‘should you ever find yourself wandering lost outside a city’s walls again, perhaps it might afford you some small shelter.’

Anna had taken her hand away

‘I am surprised to see you here, highness. I had thought we were at war. Your gift is not welcome.’

Damian had gripped her arm and begun to speak, but Suleyman had raised his hand. He was watching her with interest.

‘It is a tent,’ he’d said with a shrug. ‘Give it to a servant if it pleases you.’

The wedding feast had not been a happy affair. The Despot had been unaware of Suleyman’s invitation and struggled to maintain his composure when the two were presented to each other. After all, it was widely supposed that Bayezid’s galleys were, even then, on their way to blockade his brother the Emperor Manuel’s capital, Constantinople.

Shortly after the main course had been served, Theodore had risen. ‘My lord Mamonas, sadly I must leave earlier than expected. A matter has arisen at Mistra that requires my return.’

No one had believed it. The Despot had signalled to his retinue and they’d left.

And Anna hadn’t even said goodbye to Alexis.

Now, lying in this vast bed, hung with silk curtains and spread with herb-scented lawn sheets, she looked up at the Mamonas arms emblazoned on its silk tester and felt utterly alone. Then a new dread entered her soul. She looked again at Bartolomea’s potion. Was now the time to take it? Would she even need it? After all, Damian had appeared quite drunk by the end of the banquet, slurring his words and leering at a servant girl who’d bent too low to serve him wine. But then she’d watched Zoe take him by the hand and walk him slowly over to the long shadow of a tree where they could barely be seen. She’d seen her bend close to him, so that their foreheads touched, and they’d talked for a long time.

Then Zoe had taken his head in her hands and kissed him on the lips.

Anna was remembering her shock at seeing this when she heard the creak of the bedroom door. Damian was standing there in a red velvet nightgown.

Too late to take the potion now.

From the candles burning around the room, she could see that he looked nervous. And he was very drunk.

She leant across the bed and drew the covers back, then patted the sheet beneath them. ‘Will you come to bed, sir?’ she asked.

Damian swayed and then steadied himself against the door. He looked around the room. ‘Why are all these candles lit?’

‘I thought you might like to see your new bride,’ she said.

He seemed to consider this possibility. Then he staggered over to the corner of the bed and sat down heavily, facing away from her. He was breathing quickly.

‘Come here,’ he said. She began to move across the counterpane.

‘No!’ he barked. ‘Come here!’ He was jabbing his finger at the floor in front of him.

Anna climbed off the bed and walked round it to stand in front of him.

‘Take it off,’ said Damian.

‘Sir?’

‘The dress, shift, whatever it is. Take it off!’

Anna began to unlace the cords threaded through her bodice, her hands moving with the quick rise and fall of her breasts. Once they were undone, she unhooked it from her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. Quickly she drew her arms up to shield herself.

‘Take them away,’ whispered Damian. One of his hands, released from a sleeve, had begun to move up and down beneath his nightgown. Sweat was gathering at his temples. His breaths were coming in rasps.

Anna was transfixed with horror. It wasn’t meant to be like this.

‘Take them away,’ barked Damian, the movement at his groin more urgent. ‘Take your hands away now!’

Anna did what she was told and stood there, naked, her skin aglow in the light of the candles. She looked down with appalled fascination at the hunched figure before her who was now using his free hand to feel her breasts, pulling and twisting her nipples and running his palm across their tips. Then the hand moved down to her groin.

‘Open them!’

Anna opened her legs. She felt a shock of pain as Damian thrust his fingers inside her, invading, probing, wounding her. Going deeper and deeper. She pulled his hand away.

Damian looked up at her, his eyes unfocused, his mouth slack with lust. A sliver of sweat ran down the scar on his cheek. He pulled himself to his feet, using the bedpost. Anna stepped forward, attempting a smile.

‘Why don’t you remove your nightgown, Damian, and come to bed?’

A stinging pain exploded across her cheek as Damian slapped her. ‘You bitch!’ he shouted.

‘But …?’

What had she done wrong?

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To pity me! Do you think I didn’t know what you were doing at the steps of the Laskaris House? How dare you pity me!’

He’d stopped rubbing himself and with both hands threw her across the bed. Then he fell on top of her, pulling his gown up at the front. He grabbed her hand. ‘You do it.’

Miserably, Anna began to move her hand up and down.

‘Faster!’ he urged, his breath hot against her ear. His hand was at her throat.

She rubbed faster, closing her eyes, wanting to finish this as quickly as possible.

Damian went rigid and his fingers dug into her neck so that, for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Then he rolled away

Anna felt a wave of burning shame. She could bear the pain in her neck and on her breasts, but this humiliation was more agonising by far. She wondered what she could say to make him understand that, whatever his hurt, he could not treat her like that ever again.

She turned to him, but he was lying on his side and away from her. He was fast asleep.

Outside, standing in shadow in the corridor, was Zoe. She’d heard very little of what had happened in the bridal chamber but she could guess.

She will still be a virgin after tonight.

But why did it matter? Why indeed was she there, listening to the muffled agonies of two people beyond the door?

She knew the answer to this. She’d seen the way that Suleyman had looked at Anna at the wedding. He’d not looked at her like that.

She needed to win Suleyman’s trust. But perhaps she needed to win Anna’s first.