Adora

by Bertrice Small

  It did not surprise her to see a shadow suddenly loom on the balcony behind the gently billowing sheer silk curtains. She had thought he might come to press his suit more forcefully. There were times when even the most enlightened of men fell back on sex as a persuader. She knew it would disappoint him to learn that she had already reached a decision in his favor, using logic to do so.

  Entering the room he walked quickly to her bedside. “Are you really asleep, beauty?”

  “No, Alexander. I am thinking.”

  “Of what we spoke about this evening?”

  “Yes.”

  Without being asked he sat down on her bed. “I have not kissed you in so long,” he said. Reaching out, he drew her into his arms and kissed her gently.

  He loosed her, and she said softly, “Is that how you would make love to me, Alexander? I remember my first night in Phocaea when you were far more articulate on much shorter acquaintance. Come, my lord, I am no easily broken toy. If your love is that tame then perhaps I should not marry you. I am no wanton, but even my elderly husband was more vigorous a lover.”

  A deep rumble of delighted laughter echoed in the darkness. “So, beauty, you will not be put upon a pedestal and worshiped like some ancient goddess?”

  “No, I will not, my lord, for I am a flesh-and-blood woman.”

  She heard him moving about and soon one of the lamps by her bed was lit, and then another, and another. “I would see you when I make love to you,” he said, drawing her up from the bed. His fingers swiftly undid the pearl buttons on her caftan, sliding it from her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. His own robe quickly followed hers, sliding to the soft rugs.

  Falling back on the bed, he held her above him, rubbing his smooth face against her breasts. Then he slowly lowered her, folding her into his strong arms. She sighed deeply. Expertly he reversed their positions, and she suddenly found herself lying beneath him. He gazed down at her and she blushed under his inspection.

  “Christos, how beautiful you are,” he muttered hoarsely, and his hands stroked her breasts. His soft fingertips brushed against her skin again and again, and she could feel the familiar tension beginning. He sat up, pulling her back between his legs. He cupped the cones of her breasts, gently pulling and pinching the large coral nipples, and she could feel his maleness butting against her lower back. Now she lay across his lap, and the big hands caressed her belly with a strength of touch that made her shrink slightly.

  He laughed softly. “So, beauty, you recognize your master. Did your greybeard husband ever make you feel this way? I’ll wager not! Marry me, my darling, and I will teach you to crave my touch. I can pleasure you as no man can, and no woman will ever please me as you do, beauty.”

  “You talk a good deal, my lord,” she mocked him, and his mouth crushed against her lips, bruising them, his white teeth drawing salty blood, his tongue subduing hers. He trailed a path of fiery kisses across her breasts and belly, finding the softness of her inner thighs with his mouth.

  Theadora stiffened with shock as his soft, insistent tongue reached where no one had ever ventured. Her body shrank from him, her voice shook with protest. “N-No!”

  He raised his head and stared at her, his eyes glazed with passion. “Has no one ever tasted of you, beauty?”

  “No!”

  “But you are like honey. A woman is sweetest there, beauty.”

  “I-it is w-wrong” she managed to gasp. “You must not!”

  “Who tells you it is wrong? Does it not give you pleasure, my love? Whom do we hurt? I will soon teach you how to pleasure me in the same sweet way.” Then he lowered his head again and, pushing her legs up and apart, sought again the sweetness he craved.

  At first she was tense beneath the velvety, probing tongue, but suddenly a wave of pure pleasure washed through her defenses and she groaned. Deep, deep within her she could feel the tenseness mounting until it was almost unbearable. She was desperate for release, but he withheld it. Instead, he carefully eased off so that the tension receded like a wave. It began to return as he pulled himself up and threw a leg over her.

  With the instinct of Eve that is born into every woman she sought for his manhood with her hands and, capturing it, eagerly guided him to her. She wrapped her arms about him. At first he would not enter her but, instead, rubbed the tip of the turgid root against the soft, throbbing flesh until she thought she would scream with the intensity of the pleasure.

  “Look at me,” he commanded. “I want to see you when we mate.”

  Hesitantly, she raised her eyes to his, and he slowly entered her, gaining almost as much pleasure from watching the ecstasy that transformed her face, as from the act of possession itself.

  To her shame she climaxed almost immediately, and he laughed gently. Tenderly, he said, “Ah, beauty, has it been that long for you? I will teach you how to prolong the pleasure, my darling. No, don’t turn away from me. Don’t you know how much I love you, beauty? Please don’t ever shut yourself away from me.”

  From that moment on, her eyes never left his as he moved within her, the tempo of his passion increasing as the minutes passed. Then she surprised him by speaking, and so sensual did he find the sound of her voice that his hot seed thundered into the hidden valley of her womb.

  “I will marry with you, my lord Alexander,” she said. “I will marry you, my darling, as soon as it can be arranged.”

  Spent, he murmured, “Ah, beauty, how I love you!” and she held him close against her, smiling in the near darkness. He could not know it, for no man ever did—but in the end it was always the woman who was the victor.

  In the early dawn he left her, and she slept peacefully and soundly for the first time in months. She had enjoyed his lovemaking very much. It was masterful and experienced, though he never gloated over his masculinity. In bed they were equals, each giving, and each taking.

  On the following day they went to the emperor and asked his permission to marry. If John Paleaologi was surprised by this sudden turn of events, one look at Theadora’s face swept away his doubts. All the tension had gone from her. She was radiant.

  “I gladly give you permission to wed with my dear sister,” the emperor told the lord of Mesembria. “But you must grant me a boon in return. You must remain in Constantinople while your palace in Mesembria is being rebuilt.”

  “Agreed,” grinned Alexander. “There is a lovely villa down on the Bosphorus, at the narrow place between us and Asia. I have long admired it. Its owner recently died. I will arrange to buy it, and we may live there until we return to Mesembria.” He turned to Theadora, “Would that please you, beauty?”

  She nodded, smiling. “If you buy me this villa I shall spend a great deal of money furnishing it.”

  He chuckled and remarked mischievously, “It will be all right, Theadora. I once had some dealings with your late husband, Sultan Orkhan, and I made a great deal of money in the transaction.”

  Theadora burst out laughing. The emperor looked puzzled but Alexander stopped his question by asking, “May we wed tomorrow, Majesty?”

  “So soon, my impatient friend? What of the banns? You give us no time for preparations. Thea is, after all, a princess born.”

  “I want no festivities, John. When I was wed to my lord Orkhan I was decked out like a heathen idol. There was a two-day festival. I hated it all! I would be married quietly with only you, the priest, and my dear Alexander present. Have the bishop waive the banns. Grant me this, my brother.”

  So John Paleaologi acquiesced, and the following day at midmorning Theadora Cantacuzene and Alexander, despot of Mesembria, were wed before the high altar in the Church of St. Mary in Blanchernae. Their only witnesses were the emperor, the bishop who married them, the priest who assisted him, and two altar boys.

  At the noonday meal, the emperor brought forth a roar of delight from the diners in the hall when he announced the surprise marriage. Though the noblewomen of the court were disappointed to see Alexander wed so quickly, thei
r men were greatly pleased. Everyone crowded about the newlyweds, congratulating the lord of Mesembria, and claiming kisses from his blushing, rosy bride.

  Only the empress looked sour. Even now Helena did not wish her sister well. Helena could not bear to see Theadora happy and now her sister was radiant. When the uproar had died down Helena said softly to her sister, “You have surprised me this time, Thea, but beware. Next time it will be I who will surprise you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The empress of Byzantium was in a cold rage. “Have you lost what little brains you possess?” she demanded of her husband. “God have mercy on us! You are just like your father—with one difference. He, at least, had my father to run the empire.”

  The emperor was barely perturbed. “As I recall, you did not like it when we had your father running our empire. You could barely wait to get him out.”

  She ignored his remark. “You have opened the city to attack, you fool! If Sultan Murad wants Theadora, he’ll have her, though why he would be interested in that skinny, purple-eyed bitch is beyond me! And you, you fool, have dared to marry her to the lord of Mesembria!”

  “Murad is not going to war over a woman, Helena. This is Constantinople, not Troy. Your sister has been incredibly brave and damned clever in escaping the sultan. He has no legal right to her, and I did not force her to this new marriage. She and Alexander came to me. Yes, I gave them my blessing! Thea is entitled to some happiness. God only knows she got none with Orkhan. Your father sacrificed her to that old man in order to usurp my throne. I hope she is always happy. She deserves it.”

  “She endangers us by her very presence here. And what of our daughter, alone in a hostile land and at the mercy of the Turks? Have you thought of Alexis, fool?”

  “Your sister will be returning with her husband to Mesembria in a few months’ time. I hardly think she constitutes a danger. As to Alexis, Sultan Murad is an honorable man, and he assures me that she is safe and well at St. Anna’s.”

  Helena threw up her hands in disgust. He refused to understand. Or else, the thought lingered in her mind, he was deliberately being obtuse, wanting to annoy her. John Paleaologi was a fool and always had been. He could not see that by annoying his overlord, the sultan, he practically invited Murad to attack the city. She would lose her throne because of this stupidity.

  Byzantium stood alone, a faint, continuously threatened Christian light on the edge of the dark, infidel world. The rulers of Europe gave lip service to protecting Byzantium. This was due to squabbling over religion.

  In fact, in the year 1203, the Fourth Crusade, originally dispatched to retake Jerusalem from the Saracen Muslims, diverted instead to Constantinople. This diversion was engineered by the Venetians and by their vengeful doge, Enrico Dandolo, who had been blinded thirty years earlier while being held hostage in Constantinople by the Greeks.

  He had been allowed the freedom of the city, having given his word that he would not try to escape.

  Escape was the furthest thing from Dandolo’s mind. The son of a noble merchant family, he was far more interested in wooing to Venice the foreign trading houses that were the strength of the Byzantine Empire.

  Too, Dandolo had developed an unhealthy interest in Constantinople’s defenses. When his two breaches of conduct were discovered, he was punished by having his too-inquisitive eyes exposed to a concave mirror reflecting the sun. Blind, he was returned to Venice, where he spent years overcoming his handicap and dreaming of revenge. He was ultimately elected to the highest office in Venice, a position which offered him his opportunity for vengeance.

  Besides his personal motives, the elderly doge wanted the destruction of Constantinople for the economic advantages that destruction would afford his own city.

  The excuse for this betrayal of a Christian city by fellow Christians was the restoration of a deposed emperor. He was Alexius IV, though the Crusader lords knew he was already dead. He had been strangled by Alexius V, who then fled the city in the face of the oncoming European army, leaving his people to their terrible fate. Constantinople found itself taken in 1204 and mercilessly pillaged by soldiers, clerics, and nobles. No infidel city ever suffered at the hands of Christian invaders as did Constantinople, the capital city of Eastern Christianity.

  What was not destroyed by fire or vandalism was carted off. Gold, silver, jewels, plate, silks, furs, statuary, and people—whatever held value, and could move or be moved. The city had never recovered, and Helena was terrified lest the next invasion be the last.

  Her fears were increased considerably when Sultan Murad and a small but formidable army appeared outside the city’s walls.

  “In God’s name give Thea back to the sultan,” Helena begged her husband.

  “Do you think Murad will go away if I do?” mocked John Paleaologi. “Christos, Helena, do not be a bigger fool than you already are! Orkhan’s last words to his sons were to take Constantinople. He has not come for Theadora, my dear, but for my city. I shall not, however, let him have it.”

  Helena did not know what to do, or even where she might turn. Her sister and her new bridegroom were the darlings of the city. The story of Thea’s escape was even being sung by the street minstrels.

  Suddenly, it appeared that her prayers would be answered.

  Into Helena’s presence came a tall, soft-looking man who quietly introduced himself. “I am Ali Yahya, Majesty, chief of the sultan’s household. I wish to see Princess Theadora and hope that you may arrange it.”

  “My sister will not see you, Ali Yahya. She has recently been remarried to the lord of Mesembria. She honeymoons even now in a dear little villa on the sea.”

  “What a pity, madame.”

  Helena could not resist. “Does the sultan really want my sister in his harem?”

  “He wishes the princess back with her family, and those who love her,” came the evasive reply.

  Helena’s blue eyes narrowed. “Possibly,” she said, “it could be arranged. But it would have to be done my way.”

  “And what way is that, Majesty?”

  “With my father and brother no longer concerned with a secular life, I am head of the Cantacuzene family. In this capacity I am responsible for the fate of the members of this family. I will sell my sister to Sultan Murad for ten thousand gold Venetian ducats and one hundred of the finest Eastern pearls. The pearls, must be between one and two centimeters in size. My price is firm. I will not haggle.”

  “And what of Her Highness’s new husband, Majesty? Our laws forbid taking the wife of a living man.”

  “For that price, Ali Yahya, I will see that my sister is quickly widowed. Her new husband has offended me. He is an insolent man who lacks respect for the empire.”

  What Helena did not say was that Alexander of Mesembria had insulted her unforgiveably by refusing to lie with her when she had offered herself to him. No man had ever refused Helena. Usually they were greatly overcome by the honor. Alexander, however, had gazed down on Helena from his great height and said coldly, “I choose my own whores, madame. They do not choose me.” Then he had walked away.

  The eunuch suspected something of this sort and pitied both Theadora and her husband. Then he shrugged. It was not his place to feel anything. His first obligation was to his master, Sultan Murad, and his master had sent him for Theadora. Under these new circumstances, however, Ali Yahya was not sure if Murad would want her back. He would have to play for time until he could ascertain the sultan’s will.

  “You will, of course, provide us with proper legal papers to verify such a sale,” he said smoothly.

  “Naturally,” replied Helena calmly, “and I will make it possible for you to transport her quickly from the city before my husband discovers her gone.”

  “Although I am empowered by the sultan to make whatever arrangements are necessary to assure the princess’s return, this is an unusual situation, majesty. I must speak with my master.”

  Helena nodded. “I will give you two days, Ali Yahya. Co
me to me at this same hour. Remind your master that the longer he delays his decision, the longer the object of his lust lies in the arms of another man.” She laughed cruelly. “My sister’s new husband is quite handsome. The silly women of my court compare him to a Greek god.”

  The eunuch withdrew from the empress’s private chamber. Two days later he returned and was again received.

  “Well?” she demanded impatiently.

  He reached into his robes and drew out two velvet bags. He opened the first and spilled some of its contents into a flat dish. Helena’s blue eyes widened with greedy delight at the perfectly sized and matched pearls. The other bag was opened to reveal a bar of gold.

  “Have it weighed, Majesty. You will find it ten thousand ducats’ worth.” To his vast amusement, she went directly to a cabinet and drew out a scale. She weighed the gold.

  “A trifle over,” she remarked knowledgeably. “The sultan is more than fair.” Returning the scale to the cabinet she drew out an unrolled parchment and handed it to Ali Yahya. “These papers give your master, the sultan, complete custody and legal ownership of a female slave known as Theadora of Mesembria. She and her bridegroom are still at their villa near the city. However, you cannot get her there without placing open, public suspicion on your master which I am sure he does not wish. The execution of my plan will take time. To act hastily would mean to risk questions, which your master certainly does not want. No, it is better if my sister is widowed in Mesembria. You see, no one there would think to harm Alexander. They all love him. For that very reason his death will look perfectly natural.

  “When he does die, in a few months, I will beg my poor sister to come home. I will house her royally at the Boucolean Palace, which happens to be directly adjacent to the imperial yacht basin. You and I will arrange a time, and I will see that her wine is drugged on the appointed day. You and your men will then remove her through a secret passage which opens out by the harbor. The guards will be bribed. They will let you through without question.”