“Don’t say that,” Thetis warned. “It is an honor when the Patriarch accepts an invitation to visit.”
“He isn’t here yet,” Pentefilia said as if preparing to do battle on the point.
“Rojeh said I could go help in the stable,” said Aristion, breaking in to stop the argument. “I don’t have to stay here with you.”
Ordinarily Thetis would have been glad of a reason to let the fretful boy go, but now she pursed her lips in displeasure. “He has said nothing of it to me, and the Patriarch is coming.”
“I want to go to the stable,” Aristion announced in a dangerous tone.
“Keep this up and you’ll go to your room,” said Thetis, and turned as she saw Sinu in the doorway. “Oh, thank goodness. Please tell me you have a visitor to announce.”
“Patriarch Stavros has come,” said the Hunnic woman. “Shall I tell him you will receive him?”
“Is Ragoczy Franciscus in the house?” Thetis asked suddenly; as host, he would be likely to want to receive this newcomer.
“He is in his study, or so Rojeh says, and would dislike being disturbed,” said Sinu.
“Then I suppose the welcome is mine?” Thetis said uncertainly; she was not used to the degree of liberty her host allowed her, and she took a long moment to think what the Patriarch would prefer.
“If he does not see you now, he will probably come again,” said Pentefilia, surprising her mother by this sign of her attention.
“Certainly I shall, then,” Thetis said, smoothing the front of her talaris and touching her hair. “Ask him to enter.” As soon as Sinu left, she fixed her children with quelling gazes. “Remember what I told you: I want you all to conduct yourselves properly for the Patriarch.”
“Oh, Mother,” said Pentefilia with an impatient sigh.
“See you keep your place there,” Thetis warned. “I want nothing to upset the Patriarch.” She settled herself on the upholstered bench and tried to look at ease as she heard the approach of Sinu with Patriarch Stavros.
Hrisoula gave a little shriek as the Patriarch came into the reception room; her mother quelled any greater outburst with a single glance.
The Patriarch was tall and bearded, in a paragaudion of dark dullblue damask edged in bands of rusty red embroidered with Orthodox crosses. His hair was steel gray and his face was dominated by a large, hooked nose and prominent, fleshy ears. He paused in the doorway and made a general blessing on the occupants of the room at the same time subjecting the chamber to intense, critical scrutiny. “No iconostasis,” he said at last. “It is bad enough that you are widowed without a brother or a father to care for you, but that you should have to be in the household of unbelievers in so perilous a time—no wonder you have need of my instruction.”
“No, there is no iconostasis,” said Thetis uneasily. “You are correct: Ragoczy Franciscus is not one of our faith. But he is a man of good conduct.” She rose so that she could kneel for his blessing. “He has permitted me to have an iconostasis in my own chamber, and he has provided a covered chariot to carry me to services.”
Patriarch Stavros sniffed. “Concessions, at least, which are to his credit. There are those in Sarai who would not be so willing to—” He frowned at a place in the empty air about an arm’s length in front of him. “It is a pity that you had to appeal to him for his charity.”
This annoyed Thetis, who looked up at the Patriarch with an air of barely concealed indignation. “If you had taken us in, it would not have been necessary for us to come to this house at all. Emrach Sarai’af would not let us take rooms at an inn, and none of our other neighbors would welcome us. What were we to do? live in a hut?” She lowered her head to lessen the impact of her defiance. “It is most fortunate that Ragoczy Franciscus is willing to let us stay here.”
“Has he said why he has done this?” the Patriarch inquired.
“Not directly, nor have I inquired too closely, for as a guest it would ill become me to do so.” She stared directly at the Patriarch as if anticipating an argument. “He has said that he is willing to have us here until our house is repaired.”
“A very generous act. One has to wonder why he, a stranger and not a Christian, would do this?” His bushy eyebrow raised, punctuating his doubts.
“He has done what we most need,” said Thetis, getting to her feet and returning to her place on the bench. “If you would like to rest awhile, Patriarch?” She noticed her children were unabashedly staring at her, and color mounted in her face.
“I will do so,” he said grandly, and chose a fine wooden chair from Edessa, the largest in the room. “Have you been treated well?”
“As you see, we are shown the same courtesy as any guest would receive here, and without any let or hindrance in our hospitality.” She drank the last of her hot, honied wine.
“Yes, but it is also undesirable that a widow like you should remain in the house of an unmarried man who is no blood relation,” said the Patriarch. “If my wife were still alive, I would have been able to receive you, but as it is, no one would countenance having you in my compound.”
Aethalric appeared in the doorway and reverenced the Patriarch. “I have been asked what refreshment you might want, Patriarch.” He made no apology for interrupting, but his manner was servile enough to make his arrival acceptable.
“Does your master make this offer?” Patriarch Stavros asked.
“He does,” said Aethalric, as if the order was a specific one and not a general household policy.
“Then, if you have some good goat cheese and wine, I have my cup with me, and my knife.” He waved Aethalric away. “Has your host shown inappropriate interests in your children?”
This ungracious question ruffled Thetis’ temper, and she rose to Ragoczy Franciscus’ defense. “No, he has done nothing of the sort. Why do you persist in thinking the worst of him because he is not a Christian! May not a man do good in the world for more than reasons of faith?”
The Patriarch studied her for a long moment, then said, “It is commendable that you are grateful, but you do not need to be wholly suborned by him. It is your duty to bring him to the worship of Christ and redemption.” He laced his long, thick fingers together over his paunch; his expression was stern and his voice rumbled like wooden wheels on cobblestones. “Barring conversion, you have a grave obligation, woman, to uphold the virtue of this household. If you fail to do so, there may be serious consequences that I cannot mitigate.”
“If you think I would make myself a harlot in order to keep my family from penury, you have no cognizance of how I have lived, or how I was instructed by my mother. Do you think I came here expecting to make myself a whore?” This blunt word so shocked those in the room that the resulting silence lasted for several heartbeats. Then Thetis said, “I do not mean to offend you, Patriarch, but what you have said has cast aspersions on my honor and I cannot permit such allegations to go unchallenged.”
“I understand that,” the Patriarch said, his brow beetled. “It is worthy in you that you have such a high regard for your reputation. For that reason alone I would recommend that you find another dwelling to occupy as soon as possible. I will put in a word on your behalf with the Master of Foreigners, and that should incline him to aid you.”
“How kind of you,” she said, an edge in her humility that took the subservience from her words.
“It should ease your mind to know that I will defend you against any gossip or accusations,” Patriarch Stavros said magnanimously.
Thetis had recovered herself enough to say, “Yes, I would appreciate your efforts to put an end to any defamation my character may suffer because of this current difficulty.”
“If your husband had not been so devout, there would be less perusal as to what you experience, and fewer of the congregation would see your present situation in such a troublesome light. But as Eleutherios Panayiotos was as devoted as any in the congregation, you and his children are held to standards he established, and for that reason even
the appearance of a lapse would seem an error of vast significance. You must not allow your husband’s memory to be tarnished by your actions, Thetis.” He lifted his hand and sketched a blessing in her direction. “And, in these sad days, you must always be ready to appear before the Throne of God to answer for your life.”
“I will keep all you say in mind,” Thetis mumbled, and tried to come up with an excuse to send her children out of the room.
“God is often revealed in privation and the offering we make in the name of Christ,” said Patriarch Stavros. “You know that sin brings its own price, and that it is paid in suffering, either in this world or the next. A virtuous life promises glory in Paradise.”
“I understand that,” said Thetis, “and I thank God for His Compassion every day that my children and I remain safe in this world.”
“It is right that you should do so,” approved the Patriarch. “We are being put through the fire, my daughter. It is the obligations of Christians to find solace in our faith when God shows His love of us in the burdens He expects us to carry. You have had much to contend with, but so have almost all others. Daily I am asked to condole with those whose belief is faltering, and I help restore their courage by showing that through the ordeals God has imposed upon us, we gain strength and our place at His Throne,” said the Patriarch. “All those who have been touched by these days must see the Hand of God in what is happening.”
“I trust that God will not impose the end of the world upon us,” said Thetis with a protective motion toward her children.
“It is not for you or me to say when God may summon us to Him,” Patriarch Stavros said with conviction, then softened his observation, adding, “And remember that God does not make demands upon His worshipers but that He also provides some relief. For all the severity of the weather, He has given us the most refulgent sunsets that have ever graced the world.”
“When we can see them,” said Pentefilia, and ducked away from the pointed glance her mother sent her.
“That is also a reminder of the sorrow of earthly existence,” said the Patriarch. “You must be aware that in this realm of tears and lamentation, God gives joy to those who trust in Him. And you, my daughter, by striving to live in grace in spite of the exigencies of your life: many women have not had the fortitude to preserve themselves as you have done. I would like to thank God now for all he has spared you.” He held out one hand as if to direct Thetis in formal prayer.
She was spared the trouble of complying with the Patriarch by the arrival of Ragoczy Franciscus, who came to the door of the room. He was resplendent in a kandys of heavy black silk edged in red and embroidered with silver eclipses; his dark hair had been cut short in the old Roman style, and he wore a ruby ring on the first finger of his left hand. With no sign of distress, he addressed the newcomer cordially, “Good day to you, Patriarch. It is a pleasure to welcome you to my house.” He reverenced the Patriarch and turned to Thetis. “You have done well, permitting me to extend my hospitality to this worthy man.”
Thetis stared at him and finally managed to say, “I am sorry we have disturbed your studies.”
“I can study at any time. I do not often have the opportunity to converse with so distinguished a man as Patriarch Stavros.” He came a few steps into the room.
The three children remained silent, all of them attending to what was happening with fervent concentration.
The Patriarch started to bless him, then stopped. “Would you permit me to—”
“I have no objections to blessings,” said Ragoczy Franciscus, going down on one knee before the Patriarch. “I will esteem your office and your faith; do not be vexed that I do not share it, for that would insult my family and the gods of my people.”
“They may desert you in your hour of need, not being God as He has been revealed to us,” said the Patriarch.
“Then your blessing may provide what my gods lack,” said Ragoczy Franciscus, keeping the irony out of his voice.
Patriarch Stavros completed the blessing and then shifted his chair a short distance as if to lessen his contact with Ragoczy Franciscus. “May God show you favor.”
Ragoczy Franciscus rose and went to stand beside the fireplace. “I would have been most upset not to have had the opportunity to make your acquaintance while you were here, Patriarch Stavros.”
Hrisoula giggled and was shushed by her brother.
“You have shown this woman and her family much benefaction, foreigner,” said the Patriarch, not quite making this an accusation.
“They are my neighbors and we are all foreigners in this town, subjected to the Master of Foreigners.” Ragoczy Franciscus glanced once at Thetis. “I would not like to see a widow of this woman’s quality turned out of her house in winter.”
“Nor would anyone who knows her, or knew her husband,” said Patriarch Stavros.
Aethalric came into the reception room bearing a tray. “There is food for all here; come and take your pick of what I’ve brought,” he announced, with a swift flick of his eyes toward Ragoczy Franciscus as he set down his burden. “Wine, and almond milk. Two kinds of cheese, flat bread, eggplant crushed with garlic and herbs, butter, smoked duck sausages.” He pointed out various dishes, then reverenced the Patriarch, Ragoczy Franciscus, and Thetis before he withdrew.
“Patriarch, if you will take what you want?” Ragoczy Franciscus invited. “Enjoy what my house can offer you.”
Patriarch Stavros took his cup and his knife from his sleeve and pulled his chair nearer the table where the large tray waited. “How do you manage so much when most of us are forced to live on nuns’ rations?” The suspicion was back in his voice, and he made no apology for it.
“My wants are few and very simple,” said Ragoczy Franciscus. “It allows me to provide well for my household and my guests.”
“Commendable,” the Patriarch said as if by rote as he cut himself a wedge of cheese.
“My cook is very pleased to have those in the house who appreciate his skills,” Ragoczy Franciscus went on. “I fear he despairs of me.”
Thetis rose, her self-possession once again secure. “I will give the children sausages and butter,” she said to Ragoczy Franciscus as she reached down. “They may pour almond milk for themselves.”
Ragoczy Franciscus said, “You may do just as you like.”
She nodded to him, taking care not to make too much of this offer, for fear that Patriarch Stavros would misread her intentions. “I think Dasur has done well.”
“He will be glad to know you are satisfied,” said Ragoczy Franciscus, stepping away from the tray; he soon made his excuses to the Patriarch, saying that he had work in his study that required his immediate attention. Returning to his study, he checked on the two flasks of moldy bread that were sitting on the trestle table where he worked. The process was coming along satisfactorily; he moved the flasks to a rack he had improvised. “Another two weeks and it will be finished,” he remarked to the air. Sitting down on the single stool in the room, he brought out the parchment sheet on which he had been drawing a map of his westward journey, making notes of events and observations along the course he had traveled. Soon he was caught up in his labors, and the time passed swiftly.
“Ragoczy Franciscus?” The voice at his door surprised him.
“Thetis Krisanthemenis?” he replied, setting his quill aside and rising from the stool. The study was sunk in evening shadows, and he took flint-and-steel to spark the wicks of his oil-lamps before opening the door.
Her eyes were wide with curiosity and something more intense. She favored him with an automatic smile, saying, “I wanted to thank you for the hospitality you extended to Patriarch Stavros. He is a well-meaning man, but the trials of the last two years have worn him down.”
“He has a difficult task,” said Ragoczy Franciscus, standing aside so that she could see his study. “Would you like to come in?”
“May I?” Her face brightened with excitement.
“Do, please,
” said Ragoczy Franciscus with a casual reverence. “As you see, there is nothing compromising here, no matter what they say in the kitchen.”
Her confusion revealed she had heard the speculation of the servants; she shook her head once. “I do not listen to gossip.”
“Of course you do,” he said, no suggestion of condemnation in his remark. “It would be unwise not to, considering that you are my guest.” He paused. “Is it gossip that brings you here?”
“No, it does not,” she said too quickly. “And if you fear that my coming would lead to rumors, it should not.”
He smiled, his dark eyes softening. “I am sorry, however, that you have decided to forgo the evening meal in order to speak with me privately.”
“I wanted to see you.”
“You are not hungry?” he asked.
“Not very. We had a lot to eat while the Patriarch was here, all of it excellent,” she said. “You have fed us very well, given what there is in the markets.”
“This last year, no one has fed well,” said Ragoczy Franciscus with feeling.
She hesitated. “You do not join us at table. Rojeh says it is the custom of those of your blood to dine privately.”
“Yes; it is,” he said.
“I have wondered if you would sometime allow me to join you,” she ventured, uncertainty making her speak softly. “I used to dine privately with my husband upon occasion, and I find I miss the—”
Ragoczy Franciscus shook his head. “I regret to tell you: I believe you would find the experience not what you expect.”
She mustered her courage and looked him directly in the eye. “That doesn’t concern me. It’s all coming to an end, isn’t it? Well, I would like to have a little companionship with a man before I die.”
“We must be speaking of two different things, you and I,” he said with a slight, sardonic smile.
“No,” she said, reaching up to put her fingers against his lips, silencing him. “I don’t care anymore. I have been a prudent woman all my life. I have lived as I have been expected to live and earned the good opinion of others for doing it.” Sighing suddenly, she moved away from him. “I thought that was what I had to do to be safe, but I have learned it is not.”
Saint-Germain 18: Dark of the Sun: A Novel of the Count Saint-Germain Page 34
