The Walls of Byzantium

CHAPTER SEVEN

MONEMVASIA, SUMMER 1394

Anna awoke from her nightmare drenched in sweat and curled like a fetus on the stone floor. In the light of the oil lamp she could see that her bed was a mass of twisted sheets, some as damp as her nightdress. In her dream, she’d been in the hole again; whatever it was that was trying to get to her through the roots had come terrifyingly close this time. She realised that every time it was getting closer. And these days the dream came to her every night. She got to her feet unsteadily.

She heard the key turn in the lock and a guard stood in the doorway.

‘I heard a cry, lady. Are you hurt?’

It was taking Anna a moment to remember where she was. She looked around the room that had once been a cistern and vaguely wondered whether the shadows of its arched ceiling were part of her dream. The room was cold and the lamp only served to darken the room beyond its reach. She looked at the guard. He was an older man with short grey hair and a beard, her father’s age perhaps. He had kind eyes.

‘Can I have more light? It’s very dark in here. I have only one lantern.’

The soldier looked uncomfortable. He felt sorry for this strange, silent girl but he had his orders. ‘I’ll see what I can do, lady,’ he said. ‘Shall I empty your pot?’

Anna was embarrassed but too weak to really care. ‘Yes, please,’ she said and stepped aside to let him pass. The guard walked over to it and then stopped, looking bewildered.

‘There’s nothing in here, lady.’

‘Oh, I thought … thank you anyway.’ She sat down on the bed, suddenly exhausted.

‘I’ll go now, lady, if there’s nothing else.’

‘No … no,’ she replied. She heard the door lock.

What she wanted to dream about was Alexis.

Alexis.

In that final, searching look into his face, she’d tried to stitch every thread of his young beauty into the fabric of her memory. She wanted to dress her soul in its precious cloth, holding it in there forever. And she wanted to tear off little bits nightly to wrap around her dreams. But all she could remember was the look of fear in those eyes when he knew he was going to die. And when this horror arose before her, she knew that her heart was broken and would never be whole again.

I killed him. I killed Alexis.

She closed her eyes, forcing them shut so that her neck strained with the effort. She rocked back and forth on the bed, her shoulders hunched, hugging herself. Hating herself. She wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. With Alexis.

How can I die?

She hadn’t eaten for days, the time she’d been in this room. Could she starve herself to death? She looked down at her emaciated body and saw that she’d drawn blood above her elbows with her fingernails. What if she never ate again?

How long does it take to die?

She lifted the nightdress and looked at her legs. She still had scratches from the straw of the barn and she was filthy. It wasn’t that she’d been denied a bath; she’d refused it. In fact she’d been denied very little. The food had looked good and there’d been wine. She had books and they’d even provided a rug for the floor. Her bed had sheets and her clothes were neatly arranged in a cupboard. She was imprisoned, but not with any hardship.

At least the headaches had gone. They’d disappeared when she’d stopped eating.

In her moments of lucidity, she worried about Luke. Had he been punished for helping her to escape? And what of her parents? Did they yet know of their son’s death? If they did, they would need her with them. They’d need her there now, to see in her some pale reflection of his goodness, of his greatness.

Alexis.

In the city of Mistra, her parents had just received the body of their son and her mother’s hair had, overnight, turned the same shade as her husband’s.

The Laskaris family had enjoyed a life so far unblemished by tragedy. Now, Alexis was dead and it was too much for Maria to bear. Her agony had echoed through the city every second of the night and had continued through the morning. She had refused to leave her room and her husband had excused himself from all official duties to be with her.

The body had been brought to them by the Kephale Nikolaos Eudamis, who had explained the dreadful accident at Geraki. But from the moment that Alexis had been laid out on the table, the terrible wound still open at his neck, they hadn’t really been listening. What did it matter how it had happened? What mattered was that their only son would never again breathe the air of Mistra. So the Kephale had quickly left for the Despot’s palace to repeat the story and assure his prince that the Archon would allow no further delay to the departure of the fleet and to present him with the keys of Geraki Castle. Then he’d left with as much speed as court protocol allowed.

In Monemvasia, the Archon was sitting at a long table with his son and daughter. None of the three was speaking; the only sound came from the hiss and spit of a candle on the table before them. Damian was staring into its flame while Zoe watched the wax congeal down its sides. Damian stole occasional glances at the man at the head of the table.

Their father was staring directly ahead. They’d never seen him like this before. He’d always been a man of decision but now he looked as if events were out-pacing him.

‘I should have gone.’

Zoe looked at him. ‘Father?’

‘I should never have entrusted such an important mission to that fool Eudamis. I was a coward. I should have gone to speak to Laskaris myself, father to father.’ The candle flared slightly and it was enough to break the Archon’s vacant gaze. He looked from one to other of his children and leant forward, bringing his hands together beneath his chin. ‘What happened out there? Was it really an accident?’

Damian shrugged his shoulders. ‘It seems so,’ he said gloomily. ‘But we’ll never know for sure since our idiot cousin killed the archer who fired the shot.’

‘But isn’t that in itself suspicious?’ went on the Archon.

‘Well,’ answered Damian, ‘Richard says that he’d met Laskaris at my wedding and they’d become friends. He acted impulsively.’

Zoe said, ‘I can’t see why it would suit Richard any more than the rest of us to go to war with the Despot. He just panicked, that is all.’

His father nodded as he considered this. She went on.

‘Father, you were right not to go to Mistra. Your presence there might’ve enflamed things and you’d have had some difficult questions to answer about Anna.’ She glanced at Damian. ‘I’m not sure things are quite as bad as you think. We’ve given them back Geraki, and the cannon were removed as soon as Richard knew they’d been discovered. They are on their way to Suleyman so the fleet can sail now. And remember, it was an accident. Some stupid, over-eager archer with too much sweat on his thumb. It won’t be the first time it’s happened.’

‘But what about the cannon?’ he asked, looking anxiously at his daughter, who seemed entirely collected. ‘When they take possession of the castle, they’ll get their Albanians back. They’ll learn about the cannon.’

‘So bribe the Albanians. Give them money to disappear.’

That might work. He turned to his son. ‘Where’s your wife?’

Damian smirked. ‘I have her held in an empty cistern downstairs with no window. She won’t escape again.’

His father looked up sharply. ‘See that she doesn’t, Damian. We don’t know what Alexis might have told her before he died.’ He paused. ‘How did she get to Geraki?’

‘I don’t know how she got out of the palace, Father,’ said Damian, ‘but I think I know how she got to Geraki. That stallion that you allowed Luke Magoris to keep? It had been ridden hard when we saw it the following morning.’

‘By Luke?’ asked Zoe, a little too quickly.

Damian nodded. ‘He’s the only one who can ride it. And Richard said that there was a man with her.’

‘Perhaps it’s time for the horse to go,’ she said.

His father frowned. ‘Killed?’

‘No, sold. It will fetch a good price from the Turk. They need destriers.’

Damian smiled. ‘He’ll not like that.’

‘Nor will she,’ said Zoe quietly, and she rose to leave.

A little later, in the basement of the palace, the guard sitting outside Anna’s room saw Zoe approach. She was holding a tray with food and had clean sheets over one arm.

‘Open the door.’

The guard took the key from his belt and turned it in the lock. Zoe walked in and stared at the girl on the bed. She put down the tray and sat down next to Anna. She seemed shocked.

‘What have they done to you?’ she whispered. ‘What in mercy’s name have they done to you?’

Anna looked surprised. ‘Why, nothing, Zoe. They care for me well. See for yourself the food on your tray.’

‘But you’re not eating it. Look at you!’ She took Anna in her arms, stroking her filthy hair. ‘And you smell,’ she said gently, drawing back and looking into Anna’s eyes. ‘When did you last have a bath?’

Anna was embarrassed. ‘I …’

‘Well, you’ll have one now.’ She let go of Anna, walked to the door and banged on it.

When the guard appeared, Zoe asked for a copper bath to be brought, filled with hot water, and soap and towels. Then she busied herself remaking Anna’s bed.

The bath arrived and the door was locked behind it. Zoe asked Anna to lift her arms so that she could take off her nightdress. She tried hard not to look at the body that emerged. Anna’s ribcage protruded from her sides and her hip bones shone like pale cheese in the light of the oil lamp. Zoe helped her gently to stand in the bath and began to soap her body. Steam rose around them.

‘Am I very thin?’ asked Anna.

Zoe stopped soaping and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and got to her feet. ‘Yes, you are very thin.’ She paused. ‘I heard about Alexis. I’m sorry.’

Anna looked away. In spite of the steam, she shivered. ‘I miss him. I dream.’

‘Dream? Dream of what?’

‘Of a hole. A grave. It frightens me,’ she said softly.

‘You are scared of being buried?’

‘Something like that.’

Zoe took this in. Then she said, ‘It was an accident.’

‘Was it?’ asked Anna, turning back. ‘Perhaps the arrow, but not the journey back in the wagon. That’s what killed him. Who was Richard Mamonas obeying?’

Zoe looked down at her hands. ‘Nobody,’ she said quietly. ‘My father is as distressed by this as anyone.’

‘And the cannon?’ asked Anna. ‘Might this have anything to do with the cannon my brother saw at Geraki? The cannon that the Despot doesn’t know about?’

Zoe was silent. Anna had stepped from the bath and covered herself with the towel. She was watching Zoe carefully.

‘Your family are still helping our enemies, Zoe,’ Anna said evenly. ‘What I don’t know is how much you are helping them too. Suleyman was at the wedding. I saw you talking to him.’

Zoe stared at her. She seemed to be considering something. Then she turned away. ‘I hate Suleyman,’ she said softly.

‘Why?’

When Zoe turned back, her eyes were wet. ‘Can’t you guess?’

Anna could guess. She looked down at her hands.

‘So we are allies, of a sort,’ continued Zoe. She paused. ‘If I helped you escape, would you trust me then?’

‘Where would I go?’

Zoe pretended to consider this. She needed Luke in Mistra where he might lead her to something she very much wanted. And she needed this girl’s trust. ‘Luke Magoris. That’s whom you should go to. After all, he saved your life.’

‘And you’d take me to him?’

‘Not take you, no. But I can get you past the guard and out of the palace. And I can tell you where he lives.’ She smiled. ‘Then perhaps you might trust me.’

Two hours later, Luke was sitting at a table on which his dinner lay untouched beside him and his wine undrunk. Next to him, with her arm around him, was his mother.

Luke had returned a short while ago from the Mamonas stable where he went every evening to bid Eskalon goodnight. Except this time his stall had been empty. He’d guessed immediately what had happened and run to the nearest guard.

‘Where is he?’ he’d shouted at the soldier, grabbing the neck of his aventail. ‘Where is my horse?’

And the man had told him. Damian himself had come to the stable to oversee the removal of Eskalon. The stallion had not wanted to leave without Luke and it had taken four men to drag it through the stable door and on to a waiting cart. And Damian had watched all this with a grin on his face and a whip in his hand.

Luke shook his head in bewilderment. He loved Eskalon. He’d talked to him every day for the past two years and had gone to sleep every night with that giant head, those intelligent eyes, in his thoughts. The prospect of a world without him was unthinkable.

‘Luke,’ Rachel said, taking his face. ‘Look at me.’

Luke turned.

‘What was always going to happen to that horse?’ she asked softly. ‘What happens to every horse from the Mamonas stud? What is the point of that stud, Luke?’

Luke said nothing.

His father sat down beside him and put his hand on his shoulder. ‘I plan to ask the Archon to reinstate you as a Varangian,’ he said. ‘His mood is changed these days.’

His son looked at him in disbelief. ‘A Varangian?’ he said in a tone that Joseph had never heard before. ‘Do you think, Father, that with all that’s happened I could ever serve that family?’

His father looked as if he’d been hit. He took a step backwards.

‘Who do you think was there when they took Eskalon away?’ Luke continued, hitting the table with his fist. ‘Who do you think was there with a whip in his hand?’ He was breathing hard and his voice had risen to a shout. ‘It was Damian, Father! Don’t you see that he hates every nerve in my body for what happened to him? How could I serve him?’

There was silence as father and son stared at each other. Luke looked at his mother. She looked stricken.

‘Oh God, what have I said?’ Luke groaned.

His father was shaking his head slowly, his great beard swaying above his tunic, a look of inexpressible sadness in his old eyes.

‘Luke, we are Varangians-’ he was beginning when Luke cut him short, something he’d never done before.

‘And I will be a Varangian, just not one that serves this archon. Our empire, that same Empire that made the Varangian Guard, is in its death throes. And our archon is giving the knife to its assassin! Father, haven’t you been listening to what I’ve told you about the cannon?’

‘That was Alexis Laskaris’s word-’

‘Word? Alexis Laskaris died because of those cannon!’ shouted Luke. But he’d gone too far. His father slapped him hard across his face.

There was a knock on the door.

All three of them froze. No one ever visited at this time of night. The knock came again, more urgently.

Luke went over to the door and opened it.

Anna was standing in the doorway wearing a dark hooded cloak that Luke recognised as Zoe’s. She was breathing hard and her shoulders were rising and falling beneath the cloak. There was a sheen of sweat on her brow and her eyes were dull and had dark rings around them. Her eyelids were flickering, either from illness or fatigue.

‘Anna!’ he gasped. ‘What …?’

But before he could finish the question, she had pitched forward into the room, landing on her knees. Rachel rushed to her side and gently lifted her up. Then she took her cloak and guided her to a chair.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Anna, sitting down. ‘I heard voices and didn’t think I’d found the right house, so I waited in the alleyway.’ She looked bewildered, turning to Luke. ‘Then I recognised Luke’s voice. So I knocked.’ She stopped, still looking at Luke. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘But I have nowhere else to go.’

Then Luke found his voice. ‘Anna … you’re so thin, your arms … What have they done to you?’

‘They locked me in a room in the basement. They had to. I know about the cannon.’

Luke went over to the chair. He knelt and took her hand. ‘Anna, how did you get like this? Have they been starving you?’

‘No … no. It’s not like that. I haven’t wanted to eat.’ Her eyes filled with tears and she buried her head in his shoulder. ‘I miss him so much!’ she whispered.

‘Hush,’ said Luke softly, stroking her hair. He looked up at Rachel. ‘Mother, can you pour some wine?’ When it had been passed to him, he gently lifted Anna’s head and guided the cup to her lips. ‘Drink this,’ he said. ‘It will help. How did you get away?’

Anna sipped the wine. ‘It was Zoe. It’s the second time she’s helped me to escape. I owe her a lot.’

Luke got to his feet and took the chair opposite her across the table. ‘Why would she do that?’ he asked, almost to himself.

Anna shrugged. It was half a shiver. The wine was doing some good. ‘She told me once that she wanted to make amends. For things she’d done to you.’

Luke shook his head, unconvinced. ‘Well, it hardly matters now. We’ve got to get you away from here, back to Mistra. I will help you, of course — but my father can’t.’ He glanced at Joseph who was watching them, confusion in every part of his face. ‘He is sworn to the Archon.’ He took Anna’s hand, searching the thin face before him. Was she even hearing him? ‘So we have to leave. I don’t know where we’ll go, but we’ll find somewhere. And we have to go now. This is the first place they’ll search.’

He got up and picked up her cloak from the back of a chair. She stood unsteadily to put it on. Then he guided her to the door.

‘Luke,’ said Joseph from behind him.

Luke turned. Joseph took his son in his arms and hugged him fiercely.

‘Listen to me,’ said Joseph. ‘You’re right — you must leave, but only because they will come here to search.’

Luke nodded.

‘So,’ said Joseph, ‘find your three friends and take her somewhere you can all look after her until it’s safe to leave. I will tell you where to go.’

By now the hour was late, Monemvasia was abed and only the cats prowled the streets. Both dressed in dark cloaks, Luke and Anna hurried through the maze of alleyways until they reached Matthew’s house. Luke put two fingers to his mouth and gave a low whistle.

Once Matthew was dressed and had climbed through his window and from there to the ground, he set off with Luke and Anna to the next house. The moon was on the wane and they needed the flickering lights of the street lamps to guide their way.

Fifteen minutes later, the five of them were sitting in the pews of the little church of St Andreas, hard by the city’s sea walls. They could hear the sound of the waves on the rocks outside. Anna was sitting a little apart, looking up at a mural painted on the ceiling above the altar. From the lights of two suspended lamps, she could see an angel of the Last Judgement reading from a lectern, while all around were the damned in torment. Serpents were writhing through the limbs of sinners waiting to be pitched into hellfire while far above floated the saved, smugly processing across the ceiling to join God the Father enthroned. Anna found herself looking for the face of her brother amongst them.

Alexis.

‘Anna, have you heard anything we’ve said?’

‘No … I’m sorry …’

‘We’re going to take you to a cave we know of on the other side of the Goulas,’ said Luke. ‘It’s a climb up the rock but you can make it with our help. It’s hidden from view by bushes and you’ll be safe there.’

Anna nodded.

‘But it means getting you through the city gate,’ said Matthew. ‘So one of us will stay behind and you’ll wear his cloak. The guards are used to seeing four of us leave together.’

In a moment Anna was wearing Nikolas’s cloak. It smelt of sea and fish.

Nikolas grinned. ‘They’ll know it’s me from the smell. Just keep the hood up.’