‘You could have stopped that.’
‘What? Zoe, don’t be ridiculous. You saw what happened.’
‘I and no one else.’ She’d paused. ‘I want to know about the Varangian treasure.’
‘You’re blackmailing me?’ He’d laughed then. It was too absurd. ‘I told you, it’s myth.’
And she’d shrugged and walked away.
Now he waited. To distract himself, Luke looked around. Sitting amongst spacious orchards on the Goulas of Monemvasia, the Mamonas Palace was of an opulence unmatched anywhere in the city. An enormous marble gateway led into a series of courtyards of Moorish design inspired by Pavlos Mamonas’s visit to the Alhambra Palace in Spain. Central fountains played into pools in which lily pads gently floated. Gravel paths edged with fruit trees surrounded them, fronting borders full of flowers collected from the many countries in which the family sold its wine. Marble benches stood in the cool shade beneath the trees.
The entrance hall was circular and domed, with large, arched alcoves each holding an exquisite vessel of coloured Venetian glass. A shaft of light from an aperture at the apex of the dome threw their reds, blues, greens and yellows across the curved walls so that the room became a kaleidoscope of moving colour.
Both Joseph and Luke were staring up at the dome when the inner doors to the palace opened and a servant ushered them down a hall and into the audience chamber.
Joseph, unlike his son, had been in this room many times before. Huge frescoes covered every inch of its walls, telling the story of the life of Alexander in vivid colour. The room was rectangular and a narrow carpet ran the length of the marble floor to a dais, on which stood an ornate throne beneath a canopy bearing the Mamonas crest.
On the throne, dressed in a magnificent tunic of red brushed silk and surrounded by his Varangian Guards, sat the Archon. And while Joseph’s fellow Guardsmen looked uncomfortable, Pavlos Mamonas just looked thunderous.
That his son wasn’t dead seemed to Pavlos Mamonas a miracle. After the calamity, the Archon had ridden quickly to the stud with the family physician, who’d spent hours binding the boy’s broken legs into splints while Zoe tried to distract him from the pain.
Pavlos’s mood had darkened further when he’d returned to Monemvasia to find a messenger with the news that Mistra had not been taken. To his dismay he’d learnt that the city had, in fact, been saved by what seemed like the capricious whim of the Prince Suleyman, a man the Archon had thought he could trust.
Now before him stood someone he could vent his anger on. He looked at the boy and thought it inconceivable that he could not have prevented what had happened. And anyway, why had this Varangian been allowed to remain unscathed when his son lay in twisted agony upstairs?
‘Your name?’ he asked, as if he didn’t know it well enough.
‘Luke Magoris, lord,’ he answered, looking his Archon straight in the eye.
I cannot be blamed for this.
Luke felt his father stiffen behind him, as if he’d read his thoughts. He looked at the three Varangians with their great axes sloped on their shoulders. None of them returned his glance.
‘Luke Magoris,’ went on the Archon, ‘do you understand why you’re here?’
Luke didn’t reply.
The Archon looked beyond him to his father. ‘Is the boy stupid, Magoris?’ he asked.
‘Lord …’ began Joseph, but the Archon held up his hand.
‘Please don’t go on. I know he’s not stupid. Otherwise he wouldn’t be allowed near our horses. No, it seems he’s just insolent.’ Pavlos Mamonas rose from his chair and slowly walked down the steps to stand directly in front of him, his hands behind his back.
Luke returned his stare.
‘Yes, insolent. Insolent and more concerned for his own skin than that of my son, who, it might be supposed, he was there to protect.’ The Archon walked slowly around Luke, who stood rigidly still. ‘My daughter Zoe,’ he continued, ‘tells me that, having provoked the horse to charge, you then threw my son in front of you to take the consequences. Is that true?’
Luke was stupefied, but forced himself to stay calm. ‘No, lord. That’s not what happened.’
The Archon stopped. ‘You dare to call my daughter a liar?’ His face was almost touching Luke’s. ‘After all you’ve done, will you now accuse my daughter of lying?’
Luke’s mind was racing.
This is insane. Why is she doing this?
Mamonas’s next words were barely audible to anyone but Luke and his father. ‘Is my daughter a liar?’ he whispered.
Luke didn’t answer. The fear that had grown in him since entering the room was beginning to turn into anger. Then he felt a stinging pain. The Archon had slapped him hard across his cheek.
He heard a growl of protest behind him.
Mamonas turned on Joseph, challenge in his eyes. ‘Magoris, don’t make things worse for the boy.’ Then he turned away, mounting the dais again and sitting on his throne in a hiss of silk. ‘Send in my daughter.’
There was silence as the girl was found, a silence in which Luke looked directly into the eyes of the Archon. His body was trembling.
I must not lose my temper. I cannot win this. I must take what is given or my father will suffer too.
Then the door opened and Zoe walked in. She glanced at Luke and then went to stand beside her father, her hand resting on the back of the throne. If she felt either guilt or discomfort, she didn’t show it.
‘Daughter,’ said the Archon, turning in his seat to address her, ‘is it true that this boy, Luke Magoris, caused a young stallion to charge and trample your brother Damian?’
Zoe looked directly into Luke’s eyes.
‘Yes, Father. We arrived at the stud to see the new stallion but Arsenius cautioned us about approaching him. Luke told Damian that he would be safe if he stayed close to him. They climbed into the arena and Luke shouted at the horse when it wouldn’t come to him.’
She paused. Then she said softly, ‘The horse charged and Luke threw himself behind Damian, pushing him forward to take the horse’s hooves.’ She stopped. Her voice was low, halting. ‘It was horrible.’
Luke could stand it no longer. ‘That’s not true!’ he shouted. ‘I went into the ring alone. I told Damian not to follow me! She knows that’s what happened!’
The Archon turned on him, spitting with rage. ‘And Arsenius? Does he lie as well?’
‘Arsenius wasn’t there!’
‘Silence!’ roared Mamonas.
And silence fell, an awkward silence in which several people strove to control themselves, Luke more than any. He was bewildered and very angry. The three Varangians remained motionless, staring directly ahead of them.
Then Luke heard the Archon address him, his tone suddenly formal. A sentence was being passed.
‘Luke Magoris, we find you guilty of the grossest neglect of your duty towards ourself and our children.’
Guilty? Guilty of what?
‘We find that you recklessly allowed my son to come into contact with an animal likely to do him harm and then deliberately sought to protect yourself from the consequences by exposing him to further danger.’
What am I hearing?
‘Your punishment will be as follows. It has always been the tradition that son follow father into my Varangian Guard, with all the privilege and status that goes with it. So it has been for generations. You, however, will not be permitted to do so. Neither I nor my son who, by the grace of God, will follow me, can count on your commitment to protect our persons.’
Luke’s world crumbled around him. He felt faint. He heard his father gasp.
But the Archon was not finished. ‘However, in view of your undoubted skill with horses, you will be permitted to continue as a groom in our household. Never again, though, will you ride out with any member of my family.’ The Archon picked up some papers resting on the table beside him and began to read. ‘You may go,’ he said.
But Luke couldn’t move. He felt
his father prod him from behind. The Archon looked up.
‘Leave!’
Luke found his voice, forcing himself to keep it steady. ‘What about the horse?’
‘The horse? What do I care about the horse? It almost killed my son!’ shouted Mamonas.
‘It was frightened. It cannot be blamed.’
His father took his arm. ‘Enough, Luke,’ he said quietly. ‘This will not help.’
‘It is the best horse you will ever own,’ Luke went on, turning to face the Archon as his father tried to guide him from the room. ‘And I can tame it.’
‘You,’ hissed the Archon, ‘will leave now, unless you wish to be whipped. Magoris, take him away.’
Joseph felt the tension in Luke’s arm. ‘Luke …’ he whispered.
Luke was still glaring at the Archon, rigid with fury. Then he blinked twice, glanced at Zoe and turned. His father led him from the room.
Pavlos Mamonas watched the door close behind them. Then he turned to the other Varangians. ‘You may all leave!’ he barked. ‘And not just the room, leave the palace! I can’t bear to have you all sulking around me. The boy deserved his fate.’
When they had gone, he looked up at Zoe, who was standing apart, watching him. ‘Was that what really happened?’ he asked eventually.
‘More or less,’ she murmured. ‘Anyway, you’ve done the right thing.’
The Archon was silent for a while, wondering whether there was perhaps more to this. He knew his daughter better than himself. She was himself. Like him, she wanted everything in the world, especially those things she couldn’t have. She’d grown up with Luke yet now she’d condemned him. Was there something more to this?
‘Will you mind him no longer riding out with you?’ he asked quietly.
‘No, Father,’ she replied. ‘He was becoming tiresome. You did right to punish him.’
Pavlos studied his daughter. He knew that her fierce ambition had found its outlet in reckless promiscuity and a refusal to submit in marriage to any man. What a pity she would not inherit the Mamonas empire.
‘What about the horse?’ he asked.
She paused. ‘He’s probably right about that at least,’ she replied. ‘It’s a magnificent beast and will fetch a high price. You should let him tame it. It’s worth nothing to us dead.’
Her father nodded absently. ‘They both need taming. Perhaps one will tame the other.’
Zoe laughed shortly. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He should be tamed.’ She paused and looked down at her hands. ‘And Damian? He’ll not be able to travel now.’
Damian was due to set off on a year of visits to the far-flung business interests of the Mamonas family. Now he couldn’t walk.
Her father eyed her speculatively. ‘What would you suggest, Zoe?’
‘Send me. I’m more than competent.’
Pavlos Mamonas nodded slowly, the thinnest smile on his lips. ‘Yes. I’d thought of that. And knew you would have too. We will discuss it over dinner.’
Later, when they’d eaten and talked of business, they had a visitor. There was disturbance outside the room and the doors flew open. The Archon was so astonished by the sight of the man who entered that he forgot to bow.
It was the heir to the Ottoman throne.
Zoe had not even considered bowing. She wanted an uninterrupted view of this man she’d heard so much about. It was not the first time that he’d visited the palace but it was the first time that she’d set eyes on him.
The eyes that looked back into hers contained a mockery that men found disconcerting and Zoe intriguing. There was something depraved in the way they raked her body, lingering on her breasts for a period that would have insulted most women. Then a smile spread across his lips as she held his gaze. His skin was dark and unmarked, his nose hooked and prominent and his short black beard oiled to a perfect point beneath his chin. He was more attractive than any man Zoe had ever seen.
‘Well, well,’ he murmured as he walked towards her. ‘Pavlos, you never told me your riches extended to such a beautiful daughter.’ He bowed extravagantly, sweeping his cloak over his shoulder and kissing Zoe’s hand, his tongue darting out to make secret contact with her skin. Zoe felt a shock run through her.
‘Prince Suleyman, you are welcome,’ her father said, bowing. ‘My daughter Zoe.’
‘Zoe, how charming,’ said the Prince, his eyes not leaving her face. ‘Are you married?’
‘No, lord. Not even matched,’ she replied. ‘And you, sir, are you married or are all your pleasures to be found only in the harem?’
Suleyman smiled and turned to her father. ‘What a girl! The second minx I’ve encountered in as many days! What on earth do you Greeks feed your daughters?’
The Archon raised an eyebrow. ‘Second, lord?’ he enquired.
Suleyman laughed. ‘I’ll explain everything, but first I need some of your delicious wine, Pavlos. My accursed religion prevents me from drinking with the army, so I must make up for lost time with you. Bring me some wine.’
Suleyman walked on to the dais and slumped into the Archon’s throne, throwing his leg over an arm, taking the wine offered him. He drank it in one gulp and stretched out his arm for more.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and glanced at Zoe. ‘Does she-?’ he began before the Archon cut him off.
‘My family has no secrets, lord,’ said the Archon smoothly. ‘You may speak freely.’
‘Ah, good. Well, you may know that Mistra was not taken?’
‘I had heard as much,’ said the Archon, with no trace of emotion in his voice.
‘Yes, well, I know we had an agreement, but we may have to approach things differently.’
‘Differently, lord?’ enquired the Archon.
‘Yes, differently, Pavlos. You understand what differently means?’ Irritation was creeping into Suleyman’s voice. ‘It means that situations change and we must change our plans to suit them.’
‘What has changed, lord?’ asked Mamonas evenly.
‘Well, for one thing, their citadel is impregnable,’ the Prince said shortly. ‘And for another, they have cannon.’
Now it was the Archon’s turn to laugh. ‘Cannon, my lord? Who told you that?’
‘The daughter of the Protostrator. I captured her outside the city. Her name is Anna Laskaris.’
The Archon seemed to consider this. He had to be careful. ‘They have no cannon, lord,’ he said. ‘They barely have enough arrows to shoot a dozen volleys at your army. The girl lied to you.’
Suleyman jumped to his feet, his glass shattering on the marble floor. He grabbed the Archon by his tunic. His face was red with rage. ‘Mamonas, you go too far,’ he breathed through clenched teeth. ‘If my judgement tells me we cannot take Mistra then who are you to question it?’
Zoe stepped forward. She placed her hand on the Prince’s sleeve and he turned to look at her. She was very calm. ‘No one questions your judgement, lord,’ she said quietly, looking directly into his eyes.
The Archon cleared his throat. ‘And when do you intend to take the city, lord?’
The Prince turned back. ‘We will take Mistra, Pavlos, when we are ready to take Mistra. It may be news to you, but my father’s plans for conquest do not rest on the convenience of the Mamonas family.’
The two men looked straight at each other. The silence lengthened.
Then Zoe spoke. ‘There is, however, an agreement.’
Suleyman glanced at her, a small smile parting his mouth. His teeth were very white. ‘You seem to know a great deal.’
‘I know that you are about to change our agreement and I’m interested to know in what way.’
Suleyman was too surprised to answer immediately. Then his smile broadened. He began to walk up and down.
‘Yes, well, I know you’ve given us money, Pavlos, and we will honour our side of the bargain when the time is right. Make no mistake, you will eventually rule Mistra in our father’s name, but you’ll have to wait just a little longer
. This was a raid to weaken them and show them our power. If Mistra had surrendered, as you assured us it would, then we would have occupied it and given it to you. But it didn’t surrender and I was persuaded that it might be difficult to take … especially since they have cannon.’
He stopped and looked askance at the Archon, the challenge there. There was no reply and he went on: ‘Our plans have changed, Pavlos. We intend to take Constantinople first. Our ships will leave soon to form a blockade.’
He paused, letting the news sink in.
‘So we cannot afford to lose men on the hill of Mistra just now. We are grateful for the money and everything else … but we need something more. We need cannon. Can you get us cannon?’
The Archon was thinking hard. ‘Cannon, lord?’
‘Yes, cannon, Pavlos,’ the Prince continued. ‘Cannon for our ships. And another thing. We need you to stop any of the Emperor’s navy going to Constantinople until we’ve got the cannon. Can you do that for us?’
‘You ask a lot, lord,’ Pavlos Mamonas said gruffly.
Zoe had been watching the exchange with her head tilted to one side. She was beginning to like this prince. ‘Father, as the Prince knows, the Empire’s navy is here at Monemvasia and we could find reasons to keep it here. Venice makes cannon and we are friends of Venice. Would you like me to look into it? I am, after all, to visit there.’
‘Excellent!’ laughed Suleyman, looking from father to daughter. ‘I knew we could depend on you.’
He clapped his hand on the Archon’s shoulder. ‘One more thing, Pavlos. You’ll only be able to stop the fleet sailing if the Despot trusts you. Can you think of a way of getting him to trust you?’
Unconsciously, the Prince had turned to Zoe. He saw that she was watching him; there was something unreadable in her eyes.
She turned to her father. ‘I have an idea for how we might arrange that, Father,’ she said softly.
Suleyman laughed again. ‘Archon, this daughter of yours should rule the world! Now, I must get back to my army. Is there a discreet exit somewhere? And might your daughter be persuaded to show me the way to it?’
The Walls of Byzantium tmc-1 Page 5
