The Walls of Byzantium tmc-1

by James Heneage

  First, she’d felt the presence of Luke. Not there, but in her bedroom where she’d lain, trying to sleep.

  He was coming to her, she was sure of it.

  She’d risen, put on a shawl and crept past the room where Zoe was sleeping to tiptoe down the stone staircase and out into the street. She’d walked to the city gate where the stables were and she’d found Eskalon. It was dark and difficult to tell stall from stall, but he’d called to her and she’d found him. She’d taken his big head between her hands and lowered it so that she could look deep into those brown eyes. Where she’d seen him before.

  He wasn’t there.

  Then she’d sat on a bale of hay and wept for a long, long time. Luke was somewhere far away and was going further. And she had to marry Suleyman.

  She looked over to where Eskalon’s head was turned towards her, watching her, and she felt a sudden longing to lead him from the stable and let him take her to wherever Luke was. Eskalon would know where to go.

  She even rose and walked over and closed her eyes and put her cheek to his neck, breathing in his horse-smell; the smell of Luke.

  Where are you?

  Finally, she’d left and slowly, slowly walked back to the house, every footstep pulling its chain of misery. But as she’d approached the gate, she’d seen movement in the little square behind it. A figure, definitely female, was hurrying across. Anna stepped back into the shadows.

  Zoe.

  Anna sank further into the shadows and drew her shawl over her head. Where was Zoe going at this time of night?

  Why do I even need to ask? You’re going to the treasure.

  She heard soft footfall drawing nearer. Then Zoe was passing her, almost at a run. Anna waited a while, then followed her.

  Zoe was climbing the streets of the city with the stealth of a cat, keeping to the shadows and constantly turning her head to left and right. Once she stopped and turned and Anna just had time to back into a doorway. Had she been seen?

  When Anna stepped out into the street, Zoe was no longer ahead.

  Where did you go?

  Anna lifted her nightdress and quickened her step, passing the shadows of shop booths on either side. She rounded one corner then another, going faster all the time.

  Still no Zoe.

  She came to the big square on which the palace stood. Two guards were bent over a brazier, warming their hands against the first chill of winter.

  Then she was across it and still climbing. Was Zoe ahead of her or had she stopped somewhere?

  Anna reached the little square in front of the church of St Sophia. She saw the dark bulk of the cistern and the well by its side, shadowed by a yew tree between. There was light inside the church.

  Anna considered what to do. If Zoe was in there, it was because she thought the treasure was there too. And if she meant to remove it, she’d need help. Male help. Were there others in there with her?

  She turned and began to walk back down the hill. She would need to find Plethon quickly and Plethon was asleep inside the palace. Ahead of her, she saw the guards huddled around the brazier. She walked up to them.

  ‘Which of you is in command?’

  The guards looked at each other. Had they understood? Then one of them stepped forward. ‘I am in charge.’ The accent was thick.

  Albanians.

  Anna took a deep breath. ‘You know the one they call Plethon?’

  The man nodded.

  ‘Go into the palace and find him. Tell him Anna is in the church. With Zoe and others. Do you understand? Zoe and others.’

  The man nodded again, then leant down to pick up his helmet. Anna turned and began to climb the hill again, reaching the little square with the yew. She crossed it and tiptoed up the steps to the church’s door. It was fractionally open. She pushed it, praying that it wouldn’t creak, and listened. No sound, just the sombre stillness of an empty church and her own, careful breathing. She walked in.

  Inside, there was some light. It came from the side chapel at the end, the chapel where her father lay. It was a soft, unwavering light and it held her gaze for some moments before a shadow passed before it.

  You’re here.

  Anna crept along the wall of the church, placing one foot in front of the other with infinite care, until she reached the altar where she stopped and crouched low. She could smell herbs now, the thyme and rosemary that had been laid either side of her father’s body when he’d slept on his velvet bed. An owl cried outside and was answered by another.

  She rose slowly and edged along the side of the altar until she could see inside the chapel.

  Zoe was kneeling on the floor with a candle in one hand. She seemed to be reading the inscription engraved on the marble tomb below. Simon Laskaris’s tomb was on the other side of the chapel, an open grave with its slab to one side, awaiting its own inscription.

  Zoe looked up and stared for some time at the mural above the altar. Then she rose and walked towards it, holding the candle aloft.

  As the light approached the mural, Anna could just see the painting of figures surrounding a tomb, a tomb that had been opened. One figure lay propped against its front: a soldier asleep, a sword in his hand. Zoe lifted the candle and its light fell upon the sword.

  Anna gasped and clutched hold of the altar. She held her breath, the blood pounding in her temples. Zoe stood very still in front of her, the candle held high.

  Have you heard me?

  But Zoe was still studying the painting. Anna narrowed her eyes to see what she was seeing. It was Luke’s sword. There was no mistaking it. The dragon pommel, the hilt. It was Luke’s sword.

  And its blade was pointing towards the tomb where Zoe had knelt.

  Anna’s mind raced. Plethon had talked of a mural in some church in Constantinople, a mural seen by Luke and Zoe. A mural with a question. Was this the answer?

  Zoe stood for a while more, staring up at the mural. Then she turned and walked back to the front pew of the chapel. She reached down with one arm. When she rose again, there was a loaded crossbow in her hand. She was pointing it to where Anna was crouching.

  ‘Come out, Anna,’ she said quietly.

  Anna didn’t move. She was still shielded by the altar and the door to the church was not so far. She could run but then …

  But then what?

  This has to happen.

  Slowly she stood. She walked forward into the chapel and stopped in the aisle. She was at one end and Zoe at the other. And Zoe held the crossbow.

  Anna asked, ‘Whose grave is it?’

  ‘Manuel Cantacuzenus. Some say the greatest of the Despots. And his wife Isabelle of Cyprus.’

  ‘And the date?’

  ‘The year of his death: 1380. The year Siward left.’

  Silence.

  Then Anna said, ‘Why did you lie to me?’

  ‘About Suleyman?’ Zoe shrugged. ‘It was necessary.’

  ‘You’ve always been his lover?’

  Zoe said nothing.

  Anna said, ‘And Luke?’

  Zoe shook her head. ‘It would have been nice. But no.’

  Anna thought back to the cave and knew this to be true. That had been Luke’s first time, she was certain. But she had no doubt that Zoe had tried. She looked into eyes that were harder than stone.

  ‘Have you ever loved?’

  Zoe laughed. ‘Loved? Why would I have loved? It ends in nothing.’

  Pavlos Mamonas. Of course.

  Zoe had been her father’s son, the one he should have had. She had been the child with the genius for trade. He’d sent her abroad to learn more, and she’d learnt. Then he’d taken it all away.

  Anna said softly, ‘You cannot have that empire so you want another. Suleyman’s. And I’m in your way.’

  Zoe was watching her through half-closed eyelids. Her head was to one side as if Anna was a thing of interest. She seemed amused.

  ‘But why the treasure?’ Anna asked. ‘Why is gold important? Suleyman has gold. He d
oesn’t need more.’

  Zoe smiled then. It might have been a smile of friendship were it not for the crossbow. ‘You think that’s what’s down there? All this trouble for a little gold? Plethon sent by the Emperor to dig up a single casket of gold? I don’t think so …’

  Anna waited. There was more to come.

  ‘The legend has it that whatever’s down there can save the Empire,’ continued Zoe. She looked down at the tomb. ‘But whatever can save, can also destroy, if given to the right person, wouldn’t you think?’

  Anna understood. ‘So you give it to Suleyman who takes Constantinople, becomes Sultan and marries you,’ she murmured. She was staring into a candle, into a single tongue of flame rising above its wick, rigid with certainty. She looked up. ‘You would betray your empire.’

  ‘This Empire that devours its children? Yes, to gain another. It’s not a difficult choice.’

  ‘And the treasure, or whatever it is? How will you get it up?’

  ‘I have friends. You remember the Albanians that Alexis took to Geraki? The ones that disappeared? They’re inside the city.’

  Albanians. The guards around the Grazier. Plethon won’t be coming

  Anna slowly nodded. She needed to escape. She needed time. ‘You know, I actually thought you cared for Luke. I was even a little jealous.’

  Zoe was looking at her as if in wonder. ‘We are so different,’ she murmured, shaking her head. ‘You have the heart of the man who will rule the world and yet you want a Varangian. We are so very different.’

  ‘Was that why you never married? Did you always plan this?’

  ‘Something like this. And it would all have been so much easier if you hadn’t arrived.’

  Zoe looked beyond Anna.

  ‘Richard, tie her up.’

  Before she’d had time to react, Anna’s arms were pinioned to her sides. She felt breath upon her neck.

  ‘We’ll not kill you yet,’ said Zoe. ‘You can see what we bring up before you die. You can tell your father when you see him.’

  Anna’s hands were pulled behind her back and she felt the bite of rope around her wrists. For a moment she thought about screaming, but a gag was now covering her mouth. She was pushed forward on to a bench and Richard Mamonas appeared before her.

  Zoe pointed towards her cousin with the crossbow. ‘Did you know that he killed your brother?’

  Anna clenched her jaw. Alexis, his pale, anxious face set in entreaty, rose up before her. She closed her eyes but he was still there, this time straining to tell her something, to tell her of cannon.

  This Empire that devours its children.

  She opened her eyes and looked up at the painting. It was Luke lying there. Luke in a place with another open tomb. How could she make him wake up and come down with his dragon sword to help her?

  Richard Mamonas was now tying her to the bench. When it was done, he checked the knots, straightened and walked over to join Zoe. He’d not looked at Anna.

  There were footsteps in the church outside and two men walked in, one of whom she recognized. They held torches and carried the tools for lifting.

  Then the three men got to work. Chisels were inserted into the sides of the stone and hessian applied to their tops to muffle the sound of the hammers. Soon, they were levering the stone up with iron bars until it broke free of its mortar and bigger bars could be put in to lift it. The men’s faces were taut with concentration and shone with sweat in the candlelight. Then the top of the tomb was free and had been lifted to one side. Zoe picked up a candle and stepped forward to peer inside.

  ‘Lift them out.’

  Richard and one of the Albanians lowered themselves into the hole and lifted one, then two bodies out. They were wrapped in a heavy material bound by ropes and they scattered earth as they came.

  Zoe said, ‘What else is down there?’

  ‘Just earth,’ said her cousin. Only his chest, shoulders and head were visible above the hole.

  ‘It must be beneath.’ She looked up and gestured to the other Albanian. ‘Give them spades.’

  The two men began to dig, throwing the earth on to a pile on the chapel floor. It was not long before Richard Mamonas stopped. ‘I’ve hit something. Metal.’

  Zoe knelt down. ‘It will be heavy. Can you get ropes around it?’

  ‘Yes, with more digging. Get them to bring the pulleys.’

  Two more Albanians entered the chapel and set up lifting pulleys at each end of the grave. Richard Mamonas dug further and then disappeared to tie ropes to whatever was in there. After a while he reappeared, nodded at Zoe and climbed out of the hole.

  ‘Lift,’ Zoe said, signalling to the Albanians.

  Four men bent their backs to the ropes, placing hand over hand to pull them. There were squeaks and groans and curses when, once, the object snagged itself on the grave’s walls.

  Bit by bit, something came into view and Anna leant as far forward as her ropes would allow.

  It was a casket, perhaps six feet in length, which had once been made of wood but was now a series of metal bands holding together its splintered remains.

  Slowly, slowly, they lifted it from the grave and then swung it sideways to allow it to come to rest beside the hole.

  No one spoke. The Albanians recovered their breath and looked at one another. Zoe and her cousin just stared at the casket.

  ‘Get rid of them,’ whispered Zoe, not moving. ‘Tell them to go.’

  Richard Mamonas said some words to the soldiers and they picked up their tools and left. There were just three of them in the chapel now.

  Zoe said, ‘Bring her over here.’

  Mamonas crossed to Anna and untied her from the bench. Then he pulled her to her feet and led her over to stand at the side of the hole.

  Zoe looked at her. Her eyes had a curious light in them. ‘Do you remember me washing you in that cistern below the palace?’ she asked. ‘Just after Richard here killed your brother?’

  Anna remembered the cistern and a woman that had brought her a bath and the stuff to wash herself. She remembered steam and the sting of cuts dabbed by a gentle sponge. She remembered the comfort of disclosure.

  You are scared of being buried?

  Something like that.

  Then she remembered a dread, a familiar dread that was now rising inside her.

  ‘Well, I remember it well, anyway,’ continued Zoe softly. ‘I remember when you told me about your deepest fear.’ She looked into the hole. ‘It’s in there, isn’t it?’

  Anna felt faint. Her head was swimming. She was standing on the edge of the grave and, looking down, could see nothing but black. She closed her eyes and saw a hole beneath a tree, a box that smelt of fish, a cave with a lamp that had gone out. They couldn’t be thinking …

  ‘Get in,’ said Zoe. ‘Or I’ll fire this crossbow and you’ll fall into it. It’s up to you.’

  Anna’s legs nearly gave way. She felt that every nightmare she’d ever had was gathering in that chapel, gathering amongst the saints and sinners on the walls, amongst the visions of hell and damnation, crowding in to finally drive her into madness. She swayed.

  ‘Get in.’

  Then she was pushed.

  Her head hit the side as she fell and her breath left her in a rush as she landed at the bottom of the grave. She felt the cold earth against her cheek as she lay there between its steep walls, winded and dizzy. She couldn’t move. She was paralysed with fear. The fall had taken the gag from her mouth but she couldn’t speak.

  Then the first earth landed on her. She heard, dimly, the scrape of spade on stone above and felt the first gritty clod on her face. Still she couldn’t move. She could only stare out at walls that towered above, up, up … going on forever.

  The earth kept coming, more and more, heavier and heavier, a blanket to cover her. Then her eyes were covered and she could no longer see. She could only smell the blood-scent of the earth. Something moved over her gagged lips: a worm. A worm to crawl into her brain.


  Her ears were filled with the sounds of the lost, the damned. She heard praying and screaming and the sounds of wild animals trapped in their cages. A convulsion overwhelmed her body, coursing from her toes to her shoulders, one last spasm. She felt herself falling, falling, falling.

  And then she screamed.

  Inside the palace, Plethon was woken for a second time in a week by the presence of a woman in his room.

  At first he thought her veiled. She was sitting at the end of his bed, her head slightly bent and her long hair falling into her lap like moonlit rain. She had made no attempt to touch or speak to him.

  ‘Maria?’ he whispered.

  The woman turned to him and he saw her eyes as two points of light between the strands of her hair. She didn’t answer.

  Plethon sat up. He leant forward and took her hand. ‘Why are you here, Maria?’

  There was no reply. The woman lifted her head and glanced around the room; once, twice.

  ‘Are you looking for someone?’

  Her eyes came back to his. ‘Anna.’

  ‘But she’s with you, Maria.’

  The woman shook her head. ‘No.’ Certain. ‘No, they’ve gone.’

  Plethon frowned. ‘They?’

  ‘Anna, the other one. They’ve gone.’

  Plethon felt something cold trace its way up his spine. He’d seen Zoe after the funeral and they’d agreed to meet the next day to go to the treasure. Had she gone already?

  With Anna?

  Something was wrong. He let go Maria’s hand and got out of bed. ‘You must be cold. Take my bed, here. I will go and find them.’

  Plethon put her to bed and arranged the blankets to warm her. Then he leant and kissed her forehead, his beard against her hair; silver on silver. ‘Don’t worry. Anna will be back.’

  She’s all she has.

  He went to the door, opened it and walked along the corridor to the stairs. There were guards at the bottom, men of the Royal Guard. As he descended the stairs, they came to attention. He addressed one of them. ‘Go to the barracks. There are three Varangians there. Find them and wake them. Tell them to meet me at the palace gate. Tell them to bring weapons.’

  Ten minutes later, Plethon was standing, shivering, just inside the palace gate. The moon was a luminous sickle and free of clouds. The houses on the hill of Mistra were unmoored from their foundations, floating in the pale light like ships at anchor. Plethon looked up at the church of St Sophia. Were there lights inside?