Plethon was in bed, reading. ‘Come in. Don’t worry, Tamerlane is in his tent at the bottom of the hill, with Zoe.’
Anna walked over to the bed and sat down. ‘You were awake.’
Plethon put down the book and lifted himself against the pillows. The night was cool and he pulled the blanket up with him. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking. And you?’
Anna nodded.
‘Of Luke?’
Anna didn’t answer. She looked down at her hands, which, she saw, were joined as if in prayer.
‘Of a tall boy who looks like Luke?’
Anna looked up. The philosopher’s face was quite clear in the moonlight. He was not smiling.
‘So it’s true?’ she whispered.
‘You know it’s true,’ said Plethon. ‘You can see it. The question is: why?’
‘And do you have the answer?’
He studied her hands, clenched in hope that he might. He shook his head. ‘No. Only two people have that.’ He looked up at her. ‘Where is Luke?’
Anna sighed. She closed her eyes and rocked back on the bed. ‘He left me at Chios but didn’t say where he’d gone. Probably to Shulen. He gave me this to give to you.’
She took the ring from her pocket and gave it to Plethon. He studied it closely. He said: ‘I have been visited by Maria tonight. She is Zoe’s handmaiden. She will act as go-between. She told me that she’d seen Zoe meet with someone this evening, someone she recognised. Fiorenza.’
Anna frowned. ‘Why would Zoe meet with Fiorenza?’
Plethon shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But she told me something about Fiorenza. She was the one who fled Trebizond with the Venetian who stole the alum trade from the Genoese.’
Something connected in Anna’s brain.
Of course. Fiorenza was Maria’s cousin in Trebizond. But why meet Zoe?
‘Why is this important, Plethon?’
‘Because someone on Chios has been giving Venice information. Could it have been Fiorenza? Has she been betraying her husband to her old Venetian lover?’
The philosopher was shaking his head, lost in the riddle. Anna rose. She was interested in a different betrayal and wanted very much to talk to Fiorenza. ‘Where does she sleep?’ she asked, moving to the door.
Plethon looked up. ‘You may not hear what you want to hear.’
She turned. ‘I want the truth, Plethon.’
*
Not long afterwards, in a room at the other end of the castle, Fiorenza heard a soft knock on her bedroom door. She was lying on a bed wet with her tears. Soldiers of the gautchin had just entered and arrested her husband. She got up from the bed, walked over to the door and opened it. Anna was carrying a candle and its light made Fiorenza’s cheeks shine like paint. Her golden hair was disordered, her eyes red, but her back was straight. She was, after all, a princess from Trebizond.
She glanced beyond Anna into the dark corridor. ‘It’s dangerous for you to be here.’
‘It’s dangerous to be alive, Fiorenza,’ said Anna. ‘I must speak with you.’
Fiorenza stepped aside and Anna entered the room. She put the candle on to a table and looked around her. ‘Is there somewhere to sit?’
Fiorenza went over to the bed and sat down. The air smelt of must but there was a fire in the grate and the room was warm. She said: ‘I know why you’ve come.’ Her face was a mask of misery.
Anna breathed deeply. ‘Giovanni is Luke’s son.’ It was said quietly, not a question.
The Princess was still for a while. Then she dipped her head.
Anna felt numb. There was only one question to ask. ‘Why?’
Fiorenza looked away. ‘He was forced to. I drugged him.’ She paused for several moments, summoning the words. ‘We wanted a child and Longo couldn’t. So I used Luke.’ Fiorenza turned and there were tears in her eyes. ‘He loves you, Anna,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a love like it.’
Anna stared at the woman beside her. This was not the same woman she’d first met four days ago and she had no doubt that she was telling the truth. She closed her eyes, wanting to savour the sweetness of Fiorenza’s words, to let them tumble in the whirl of her mind, then come to rest. She opened them again to see that Fiorenza was crying. She took her hand. ‘What is it?’ she asked softly. ‘Where is Longo?’
‘You must go.’
‘Is it what Zoe said to you?’ Anna squeezed her hand. ‘I have been with Plethon. We know of your meeting with Zoe. Perhaps we can help.’
Fiorenza shook her head. ‘It’s too late.’
‘What’s too late?’
The Princess from Trebizond straightened. She took a handkerchief from her sleeve and brought it to her face, wiping her nose, her eyes. ‘I have betrayed my husband. I have betrayed the signori. They’ve all been arrested.’
Anna took Fiorenza in her arms and held her tightly. ‘What have you done, Fiorenza?’ she whispered into her hair.
Fiorenza was breathing hard between the sobs. ‘I have betrayed the signori to Tamerlane just as I have betrayed them to Venice all these years.’
Anna drew away. ‘But why?’
‘Because of love,’ came the soft answer. ‘Because of love for a man called Pavlos Mamonas.’ She wiped her eyes with her hand and looked at Anna. ‘Love makes you do strange things, but then you know that.’
‘You love Pavlos Mamonas?’
‘Did love. No longer.’
‘So why betray them now?’
Fiorenza screwed her eyes shut, unable to stop the tears, stop the pain. ‘Because the man I loved has a daughter who holds my son.’ Fiorenza’s grip on Anna’s hand was tightening. ‘She would have killed him if I hadn’t confirmed her story.’
‘What story?’
‘That they sent the Varangian Matthew to kill Tamerlane.’
The shock made Anna start. Matthew sent to kill Tamerlane? It didn’t make sense; then it did.
Zoe wants the signori dead before Luke and Mohammed Sultan get here.
Fiorenza opened her eyes. ‘They will all die. Tomorrow. All except Longo. I had to … for Giovanni.’
Anna had to do something. She released Fiorenza and rose. ‘I must return to Plethon.’ She paused. ‘One thing I don’t understand. How could you betray a man like Marchese Longo to Pavlos Mamonas for all that time?’
Fiorenza shook her head slowly. ‘I told you. I loved him. I loved him until …’
‘Until?’
Fiorenza stared at Anna. ‘Until Giovanni arrived. Then everything changed. I loved someone else.’
Anna saw the truth set out in all its misery before her. She’d looked for it and there it was. She wanted to ask something else but knew that Fiorenza wasn’t listening any more. The Princess was staring into the fire and the embers in her eyes were just one small corner of the hell that burnt all around her.
*
The next morning, the manacled signori filed into the castle hall to find Tamerlane already there and seated in a chair, watching them from beneath a frown deep enough to hide armies. He was not wearing his spectacles. Zoe was sitting on the marble floor beside him, her body resting against his legs, her face expressionless. She wore the simple white caftan of the slave.
Marchese Longo was kneeling next to Dimitri and had just seen the tapestry beside him move. He glanced up. Tamerlane had risen and was walking slowly down the hall towards them, his uneven tread scraping on the marble. He stopped and let out a long sigh.
‘You Italians. Always scheming.’ He spat on the ground. ‘You sent your assassin to kill me in my tent. But he did not find me there, so he tried to rape my bride instead. Do you expect mercy?’
There was shocked silence in the hall. Then Longo spoke. ‘Lord, what assassin? We know of no assassin.’
‘The Varangian. Is he not one of you?’
Longo was bewildered.
Luke is in Ankara.
‘Lord …’
But Tamerlane’s hand was in the air and two doze
n tapestries parted as one to reveal men with bows aimed at the signori’s hearts. ‘You have betrayed me. All of you.’
A door behind opened and two soldiers came in dragging Matthew between them. He’d been beaten and his face was a mass of blood. They brought him to Tamerlane and pushed him to the floor. Tamerlane took a handful of his hair, forcing his head up. ‘Look upon the face of a traitor, Genoese. He was found in my tent last night with poison in his belt. He will die and you will die. It is just.’
Longo had dared to get to his feet. ‘Lord, this is madness. We don’t even know this man. The Varangian whom we admitted to our campagna is the man called Luke Magoris. This man is a stranger.’
Tamerlane was shaking his head. ‘You lie. Someone of your island has told me the truth: that you sent this man to kill me. And your Luke Magoris? I favoured him but it turns out he lied as well. You all lie and you will all die.’
*
An hour later, Tamerlane was riding towards the bridge, Zoe beside him. The morning was fair and the landscape around as motionless as a theatre set, winter’s cold waiting in its wings. The signori walked in chains behind and there were gautchin on either side of them carrying ropes. Behind them marched the rest of Temur’s bodyguard but without Varangians at their head.
Arcadius and Nikolas had left earlier to try to intercept Luke and Mohammed Sultan. Matthew hadn’t returned from his night meeting with Tamerlane and they’d guessed that he’d gone to Luke.
Last of all came Anna, still disguised as a messenger, hand in hand with Fiorenza, who walked with her head bowed. As Anna made her way to the bridge she was joined by Plethon. After meeting with Fiorenza the night before, Anna had returned to his room to tell him all that she’d heard. But when she’d tried to find him in the morning, he’d gone. Now Plethon was beside her. She wondered if he’d used the ring.
She turned to him. ‘Have you seen her?’ she whispered.
‘Who?’
‘Zoe. With the ring.’
Plethon shook his head. ‘It’s too late for that, I’m afraid.’
Fiorenza stumbled next to her. Anna helped her back to her feet. The Princess hadn’t spoken since they’d set out. Anna turned back to Plethon but he’d disappeared.
At the foot of the bridge were four chests, their lids open, with gold coins heaped inside. Tamerlane had decided that the signori would end their lives as they’d led them: with their pockets stuffed with gold. He would take them to the top of the bridge, tie them back to back and then push them into the river. The gold would drag them to the bottom and he’d enjoy watching them struggle against each other before they died.
Especially Longo.
Vaguely, he wondered whether Zoe would allow him some sport with Longo’s widow after her husband had died. For Tamerlane, there was entertainment to be had in tears. He dismounted, walked over to the open chests and peered inside. He knelt and plunged his hands into one, lifting them so that the coins ran through his fingers, clinking as they fell. He looked back at Longo. ‘I’m going to give you all this,’ he said. ‘I’m going to share it out amongst you.’
Longo had guessed what was to happen to them. He’d seen the guards with the rope and the furious river below. He’d heard of the many, many ways that this man had devised to kill people and saw the twisted logic of this one. He vaguely wondered how they’d retrieve the gold from the riverbed. He’d not seen his wife and hoped she wouldn’t have to witness it.
But she would. When the men in front had stopped, Fiorenza, Anna and Plethon had walked forward, keeping well behind Zoe. They arrived to see Longo and Dimitri tied back to back being dragged up the bridge, Tamerlane following behind.
Fiorenza began to run forward, her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. ‘Not him!’ she cried. ‘She said he’d be spared!’
Anna caught her and gripped her arms, turning the woman to face her. ‘She lied, Fiorenza. She always lies. She doesn’t want any of the signori to join her on Chios. But she still has Giovanni. You must control yourself.’
Fiorenza was staring past Anna. ‘But …’
‘You must remain quiet,’ said Anna, shaking her. ‘If you try to interfere’ – she glanced behind her to where Zoe sat on her horse, apparently unaware of their presence – ‘your son … Longo’s son, will die.’
Longo’s son. Luke’s son.
Fiorenza nodded slowly. She rose to her feet and Anna held on to her, keeping her standing. In front were the signori, chained and guarded, and in front of them was Zoe, looking directly ahead. Beyond was the bridge. It was long and high and they couldn’t see over to its other side, but they heard the river below. Swollen by autumn rains, it was deep and fast and full of rocks.
Ahead, Tamerlane was walking up the bridge and looking at the sun, taking pleasure from its warmth upon his face. Perhaps he would stay in this country for a while, enjoy Constantinople with his new wife. Perhaps he’d have two capitals as the Romans once had. He closed his eyes and didn’t notice that he was reaching the top. He heard talk in front of him. He opened his eyes to see that the two gautchin and their charges had stopped and were looking over the crest. Tamerlane walked up to them.
In front of him, over the brow of the bridge, was a big horse with a tall, fair man on its back. The man had a bow in his hand and at his side was a sword with a dragon head for a hilt. Even without his glasses, Tamerlane knew who it was. He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Varangian! You are Horatius! Or is it Leonidas? But he had three hundred and you are only one. What is this?’
There was no answer.
‘Are you so keen to die?’
Luke lifted the bow. Its arrow was pointing at Tamerlane. Neither of the gautchin on the bridge had bows and they were too far away to reach him with their swords.
‘Ah, you will kill me!’ The old man clapped his hands. ‘But that’s suicide for everyone.’ He gestured behind him. ‘If I die, they all die. The Genoese, your emperor … all of them.’
Luke said: ‘Bring forward the wife of Lord Longo. Alone.’
Longo, on his knees with Dimitri bound behind him, shouted: ‘No!’
Tamerlane laughed. ‘You’d have her plead for her husband’s life? Why not?’ He turned and shouted behind him: ‘Have the wife of the Genoese leader come to me. Quickly!’
Anna was still holding Fiorenza by the arm but the next moment the Princess had broken free and was running past the signore, past Zoe, and on to the bridge. For a moment, Zoe looked as if she would follow her. But she reined in her horse and sat perfectly still.
Tamerlane watched Fiorenza come towards him, his hands on his hips. Ahead, Longo had managed to angle his body so that he could see her too. As she approached, Tamerlane turned back to Luke. ‘Can she begin?’
Luke stared at Fiorenza. He hadn’t seen her for a long time and, if anything, her beauty was greater than ever, perfectly poised between youth and age and seeming to reflect the season around them. Luke spoke to her. ‘Lady, I have your son.’
He turned his head and whistled and Giovanni emerged from behind a tree at the bottom of the bridge. The boy ran up to Eskalon and was lifted into the saddle. Luke held him to his front and said: ‘He was being held at Sklavia on the orders of Zoe.’
Tamerlane scratched his head. He was frowning. ‘Why?’
‘To persuade the Princess Fiorenza to lie to you, lord. Did she tell you that the signori sent the Varangian to kill you?’
Tamerlane nodded.
Fiorenza had arrived next to Tamerlane. She seemed composed. She said: ‘I lied to you, lord, because Zoe held my son. She said that you’d spare my husband.’
Tamerlane grunted. He said to Luke: ‘But what of the poison found on the Varangian?’
Luke had lifted the bow again. ‘Zoe’s poison was found on him, lord. Poison probably meant for you some day.’
Tamerlane snorted. ‘Why would she want the Genoese to die?’
‘Because the Genoese stand in her way.’ He paused. ‘As you will one d
ay.’
Tamerlane looked behind him, down to the bottom of the bridge where Zoe still sat, out of earshot. He stood like that for some time. Then he turned back to Luke. ‘But you lied as well, Varangian,’ he said. ‘You told me you were married to the one who eased my pain.’
‘Her name is Shulen, lord.’ Luke’s hands were steady on the bow and Eskalon stood motionless beneath him. ‘And she saved your life.’
‘So why did you deny her to me?’
‘Because your heir was in love with her. Would you have bedded the one Mohammed Sultan wanted for his wife?’
Tamerlane was silent again, his big head thrust forward in thought, his world suddenly more complicated. He looked up. ‘Luke.’ It was the first time that Tamerlane had used his name. ‘You point an arrow at me to make me release the Genoese, which I will do.’ He shouted something to the gautchin, who began to untie Longo and Dimitri. ‘But you won’t kill me because if you do, there’ll be nothing left that you love. Including you.’
Luke said nothing and the arrow remained pointed at Tamerlane’s heart. The hand that held the bowstring had begun to tremble.
The last time that they turned back was on the death of the Khan.
Tamerlane continued: ‘You can have your signori but you won’t save Constantinople. I may not marry her there but then it hardly matters. It was just an excuse to enter. I want to destroy it.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s my way.’
Luke said nothing. He could release the arrow and Constantinople would be saved. But Anna was on the other side of the bridge. His arm began to ache.
Tamerlane had begun to limp slowly towards him. He said: ‘I have favoured you, Luke, because you are brave and beloved of my heir. If you stay with me, you can have everything you want. A kingdom? It’s yours.’ He came on. ‘We can conquer the world together.’
Luke said: ‘Come no closer, lord. I have already conquered with you. I want no more part in it.’
Tamerlane had stopped. His head was on one side. ‘Then I have lost?’
Luke looked beyond Tamerlane and nodded. He lowered the bow and lifted Giovanni to the ground. The boy ran to his mother, soon joined by Longo. Luke kicked Eskalon and came up to Tamerlane. He dismounted. ‘We have both lost, lord,’ he said quietly. ‘Look behind you.’
The Towers of Samarcand (The Mistra Chronicles) Page 42
