The King of Hungary, like Manuel, had chosen to obey Tamerlane’s summons, the consequences of refusal outweighing the dangers of acceptance. Their arrivals, and the imminent coming of Tamerlane, had brought about the departure of Fiorenza and Giovanni for their home in Sklavia. It was safer for them there, closer to the port of Limenas. They would be missed.
Now Anna was seated on a balcony that overlooked the big throne room, watching the men below wait for Tamerlane to arrive. Manuel stood next to Plethon who stood next to Sigismund of Hungary. Behind were the signori, each trying to forget the stories of horror that had accompanied every move of the man they were about to meet. At their front was the handsome Marchese Giustiniani Longo, a man she’d met only the day before. She wished she’d met his wife as well, to admire her beauty and thank her for the many kindnesses she’d shown to Luke.
At last there were footsteps on the marble outside, quick footsteps that stopped outside the door. There was a long pause and from far away came the sound of something being dragged. Anna felt cold.
Tamerlane. Temur the Lame.
Closer it came, agonisingly slowly. Anna stared at the doors and the Genoese at each other, every man searching for reassurance or just memorising a face they might not see again. The doors were flung open by two soldiers of the gautchin, their pigtails swinging above golden cuirasses as they knelt. As Tamerlane entered, thirty knees hit the marble floor as one. Only the Emperor Manuel and King Sigismund remained standing.
Tamerlane was wearing a tall, pumpkin-domed hat with a heron feather clasped to it and a short-sleeved tunic of brushed silk gathered at the waist by several belts. Above was an over-garment edged in ermine and below short riding boots with mud on them. On his hands were hawking gloves covered with filth. His clothes were wet with rain and the smell of damp came with him.
‘You would not kneel?’ he asked, approaching the Byzantine Emperor.
Manuel inclined his head. ‘We are both emperors, lord. And I am not yet your vassal.’
Tamerlane looked at him for a moment, then glanced at Sigismund, breathing deeply. He was not wearing his glasses and the men before him were vague. He turned to the rest of the room. ‘Which of you dogs sent the fleet to relieve the crusaders at Smyrna? I know it sailed from here.’
Marchese Longo answered him. ‘The fleet came from Rhodes, lord. It took on provisions at our harbour against our wishes.’
Tamerlane limped over to him. ‘Indeed?’ he asked, his face bent close to Longo’s and his rancid breath between them. ‘And you did not think to stop it? Are you not part of the Byzantine Empire which allied itself to me against Bayezid?’
Anna looked down on a room full of men, not one of whom expected to see sunset. The man who had reduced cities to rubble was walking among them talking of betrayal. Tamerlane stepped back from Longo and clapped his hands. There were more footsteps from the corridor and two men came in, each carrying a chair. Tamerlane sat, lifted a hand, and one of the gautchin drew his sword, walked forward, and gave it to him.
Above them, Anna gasped. Zoe had walked into the room. She was dressed as a Mongol princess in a high-collared silk tunic of red, her hair plaited. She looked neither to left nor right but went straight to the other chair and sat down. Tamerlane took her hand.
Anna felt faint. Zoe here? She was supposed to be in Edirne, but she was below her holding the hand of a monster. She heard Tamerlane speaking again and forced herself to listen.
‘I have heard what Bayezid did after Nicopolis,’ he was saying. ‘Blind old men with swords.’ He paused. ‘Thanks to you Italians, I can now see.’ He took his glasses from a sleeve and put them on. ‘Now, who is to be first?’
Marchese Longo rose to his feet. ‘If anyone here is to die, it should be I,’ he said quietly. ‘I alone bear responsibility for the revictualling of the Hospitaller fleet. The rest are innocent.’
Tamerlane stared at him. Then he leant forward in his chair, still holding Zoe’s hand. He said: ‘Did you know my mother was a Christian, Genoese? Of the Nestorian persuasion?’
Anna’s hands were holding the balcony and they were trembling. This was the man who had had his cavalry ride down Christian children before Damascus when they’d come out to plead for their lives. And beside him sat the most evil woman she knew. She drew back so as not to be seen.
‘There is no mercy in Islam,’ Tamerlane continued, shaking his head. He brushed dirt from his glove. ‘But in Jesus Christ …’ He leant forward again and blew his nose to the floor through finger and thumb, covering the effect with his boot. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and clicked his fingers. ‘In Jesus Christ there is mercy.’ He made the sign of the cross with his gloved hand and frowned. ‘Anyway, it pleases me to be merciful. Especially since men from your island have done me some service. The three Varangians who are with me and the engineer are released from their oath.’ He let go of Zoe’s hand and rose to his feet. ‘I have decided to give you the monopoly to sell mastic throughout my empire. So you have it. Get up.’
The signori did nothing at first, too stunned to move. Then, one by one, they rose.
‘And alum,’ went on Tamerlane. ‘You can have that too.’
Longo spoke. ‘Lord, your generosity—’
But Tamerlane suddenly wanted to be somewhere else. He leant forward and tapped Longo on the head with his finger. ‘Stop. I have honey enough in my tent.’ He straightened and addressed the men in the room. ‘There is a condition. I give your island to the woman who will be my next wife.’ He turned and gestured to Zoe, still seated. ‘She knows trade and will be a wise ruler. She will come to rule over you when I am dead.’
The signori exchanged glances but none of them spoke. Was Chios now his island? The Emperor Manuel and Sigismund were still standing. ‘What of us, majesty?’ asked the Emperor. ‘King Sigismund and I have come far to hear your plans. Have you nothing to tell us?’
Tamerlane thought for a while. Then he said to Manuel: ‘It pleases me to marry this lady in your Church of Holy Wisdom in the city of Constantinople. I shall enter with a guard and depart when it is over, leaving you in peace. You and Hungary are invited to attend.’ He paused and looked around the room. ‘In fact you will all come. You can ride with me to Constantinople and get to know your new ruler.’ He went over to Zoe and offered her his arm. She rose. ‘And after the marriage we will return to Samarcand.’
*
A little later, after the signori had retired, Manuel remained with Plethon and Anna. Matthew, Nikolas and Arcadius were with them, freed now from Tamerlane’s retinue. Their reunion with Anna had been tempered by the news of the wedding in Constantinople.
‘He was supposed to stop at Ankara, Plethon,’ Manuel was saying. ‘We cannot let him enter Constantinople. What has gone wrong?’
Matthew spoke. ‘It is the Mamonas girl, majesty. She has bewitched him. He does what she tells him to.’
‘Including destroying her own empire?’ Manuel’s voice was rising.
Plethon shook his head. ‘She is ruthless, highness. And she wants more than Chios.’
Anna glanced at the philosopher. ‘Perhaps she wants the treasure and Constantinople is her price.’
Plethon said nothing. Manuel had begun to pace. ‘So what do we do? Can we defend ourselves? What of Sigismund? Is his crusade credible?’
Anna said: ‘It has Medici money and the blessing of two Popes. But it will take too long to come.’
Manuel grunted. ‘What about Suleyman? He still has half of Bayezid’s army in Rumelia. He could join with a Hungarian army.’
Plethon had already registered his dismay that Manuel had thought to ferry Suleyman’s fleeing army across to Europe. That had not been part of his plan. Manuel had wanted another ally should Tamerlane threaten Constantinople but it was hardly likely that Suleyman would find common ground with Sigismund.
Manuel had stopped pacing and was looking out at the evening sky, an eruption of pinks and mauves over the hills to the west.
There was a light breeze and his long silver hair moved with it. ‘Could we poison him?’ he asked. ‘That’s what stopped them last time: the death of the Khan.’
Matthew spoke again. ‘Impossible, highness. Zoe is with him at all times.’
There was silence in the room and the wind played cool fingers over its taut strings. Plethon came and stood behind his emperor. ‘There is another way, lord,’ he said quietly. ‘The Varangians have told me that his grandson, Mohammed Sultan, has influence over him. He was wounded in the battle and rests at Ankara. We could send for him.’
‘But why would he come?’
‘Because the Varangian Luke Magoris is with him there. They have become friends. He could bring him.’
Manuel considered this. ‘But who would go to them?’
Matthew said: ‘We would, majesty. The three of us.’
‘You?’ This was Anna. ‘Three fair-haired giants riding through a sea of Mongols? You’d not get past Smyrna. I should go.’
Matthew snorted. ‘It’s too dangerous.’
Anna turned on him. ‘More dangerous than here? How safe will I be on Chios once Zoe knows that I’m here?’
She was right. Zoe’s implacable hatred of Anna would seal her death sentence once she’d learnt of her presence.
Nikolas said. ‘She could take the paizi. We still have it from the ride to Samarcand. If she was properly disguised, no one would dare stop her. And she’d get new horses at every yam.’
Matthew shot him a glance. But it made sense. Anna had to escape Chios, so she might as well escape to Ankara. She came forward to stand with Plethon, placing her hand on his arm. ‘I’m going,’ she said quietly.
To her surprise Plethon nodded. Then he took her to one side, out of earshot of the others. ‘Yes, you should go.’ His voice had dropped to a whisper. ‘The ring you gave to Luke: I need it back. If Zoe wants to bargain for the treasure then the ring is an important part of it, you know that.’ He looked over her head to make sure they weren’t being overheard. ‘Perhaps I was wrong, Anna. Perhaps this is the way the treasure is to be used to save the Empire.’
*
So it was that five days later Anna was looking up at the sandstone walls of Ankara Castle. The sun was setting and the stone above her glowed in the last of the heat, the shadow of her horse stretching out in front like a grave. She had ridden as a boy-messenger, veiled against the dust, and not once had her paizi been questioned. She was on her sixth horse and the animal was tired.
The ride had been uneventful, which had suited a traveller who’d wanted to think. She’d last seen Luke at Kutahya when she’d also met Shulen. That had been at the start of Luke’s voyage to Tamerlane, a voyage that must have taken him and Shulen to the very frontiers of life and death, of mutual dependence. Was it so very surprising that they’d fallen in love along the way? But Anna remembered a night in a cave long ago and a promise that had been made.
I will love you wherever you are and wherever I am.
The words had stayed with her through every moment of her life in the harem in Edirne. On the rides with Suleyman, she’d meant to scatter them into the air but they’d always come back to her. Luke might be married to Shulen but he still loved her. She was certain of it.
But she was afraid too, and the closer she got to Ankara, the more afraid she became. What if she was wrong? What if Luke also loved Shulen? Was she going to be humiliated at Ankara? Should she turn back?
She’d not turned back and now it was too late. The vast studded doors were closing behind her and she was inside the castle. She was still veiled and a Mongol officer was approaching her.
‘Your message?’
‘Is for the eyes of Prince Mohammed Sultan only,’ said Anna as she dismounted. She handed her reins to a waiting groom. ‘I must take it to him in person.’ The paizi around her neck glowed in the waning sunlight.
The man nodded and turned. ‘This way.’
They entered the keep and crossed a big hall with a long table in the centre, piled high with food and jugs of wine. There was armour on the walls and crossed weapons. They went through an arch and into a tower and began to climb steps. At last they reached a door and the soldier knocked.
A voice told them to enter. Not Luke’s but a woman’s. Anna’s heart was beating harder than she’d ever known it to do. She took the deepest of breaths and lifted the veil to her eyes. The door opened. Inside were three people, two of them sitting at a table, the other asleep in a large bed. Luke and Shulen were playing chess. Luke was staring at the board while Shulen glanced up.
‘A message from Temur Gurgan?’
Anna waited for the soldier to close the door behind her. ‘A message for the Varangian,’ she said, her voice muffled by the veil and as deep as she could make it. ‘For him to read here. I am to know his reply.’
Luke was still staring at the game. He had a castle in one hand that hovered above a knight. Anna saw that there were strange pieces on the board and that it was bigger than ones she’d played on. Luke held up a hand for the letter and Anna looked at the hand. Then she produced one of two letters on her person.
Luke took the scroll, broke the seal and unrolled the vellum. It contained a simple message: ‘You promised only to ever remove the ring when you stopped loving me. You wear it still.’
Luke dropped the castle. He turned and rose too quickly and the chair clattered to the ground. ‘Anna.’
He ran to her as she pulled down the veil. Then she was within arms that held her so hard that the paizi dug into her breast. ‘Stop,’ she said. ‘The paizi.’ She drew away, holding him at arm’s length, breathing hard. ‘And you are married.’
‘Married? To whom?’
Anna looked into a face wide with joy, astonishment, bewilderment. It was a face with no trace of a lie in it. She nearly faltered.
‘To her.’ She nodded towards the table.
‘To Shulen?’
Anna nodded. ‘It happened in the caravan. We heard.’
Shulen had risen. She was very different from when Anna had seen her last. Now she was smiling. ‘Ah, you heard.’ She laughed. ‘From Venetians perhaps? Or even from the court of Tamerlane?’ She came up to them. ‘Anna, I invented the marriage to try and save us from a madman – two madmen.’ She pointed towards the bed where Mohammed Sultan lay. ‘The only man I have ever come close to marrying lies in that bed.’
Anna nearly sank to her knees with the relief. It was as if a giant vine that had grown around her, that had squeezed the life from her existence, had been cut at its roots. She rose, took a long breath and grasped Shulen’s hand. She said: ‘Thank you.’
Luke had been watching her throughout the exchange, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. A moment that he’d dreamt of for so long had arrived. He felt weak with joy. But why was she here? And how had she got here? ‘Anna …’
But she had turned and was walking over to the bed, partly to hide the tears of happiness that were washing her eyes. She stopped and looked down at the sleeping Prince. ‘Is he too sick to travel?’ she asked.
Shulen followed and stood on the other side of the bed. ‘The wound was very deep. He mustn’t be moved.’
Luke came to stand next to Anna and took her hand. He looked down at the Prince, whose only movement was the rise and fall of his bandaged chest. ‘Where must he travel to?’
Anna said: ‘Tamerlane wants to marry Zoe in the Church of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople. Everyone believes that it’s an excuse to put the city to the sword. Only Mohammed Sultan can stop him.’
It was said quietly but it caused the man below them to stir. He opened his eyes and blinked twice. He turned his head towards Shulen and took her hand. ‘I can be moved,’ he said.
Shulen shook her head, kissing each of his fingers as she did so. ‘It will kill you.’ She looked up at Anna, then Luke. ‘There must be another way.’
Anna turned to Luke. ‘Plethon wants the ring I gave you. It’s possible that Zoe can be persuaded to
stop Tamerlane but he needs the ring to do it. Whatever happens with Mohammed Sultan, we must bring the ring to Plethon.’
Luke nodded. ‘We should leave immediately, then.’ He knelt down so that his head was level with the Prince’s. ‘And you should obey Shulen. You’re too weak to go to Tamerlane.’
Mohammed Sultan nodded slowly. ‘I am too weak to go with you but I will come on behind, with Shulen and my mother.’ His face wrinkled. Speaking was painful. ‘You’ll need me.’
Shulen began to say something but stopped herself. The Prince continued: ‘Do you remember in the church, when you thought Shulen was Cybele?’ The words were slow, mostly breath. He was trying to smile. ‘I told you that I’d believed what you’d said about the west, about what was happening there.’ He closed his eyes and took several slow breaths. ‘Temur must not destroy it.’
Luke remembered something that had been said and not said. The Mongol army would go home on the death of its khan as it always had. But how? He looked down at a face drained of blood, at eyes lying too deep in shadow. He’d come to love this man and he didn’t know if he’d see him alive again. Luke nodded, uncertain, if he spoke, whether he would be able to finish a sentence. He bent forward and kissed the forehead, cold as ice. He got to his feet and turned to Anna. ‘We should go.’
*
Anna had ridden five days without sleep and was exhausted beyond reason. But there was no time to sleep now and she had to dig her nails deep into her palms to keep in the saddle. Luke was in front, joined to the back of Eskalon as if the animal were part of him. They hadn’t spoken since leaving Ankara and the night was loud beneath her: the pounding of hoof on solid earth, the rhythmic squeak of leather in motion, the staccato panting of an animal doing its best to keep up with one much bigger. She felt so tired.
On the ride to Ankara, the agony of apprehension had kept her awake but now, with the relief of knowing that Luke was unmarried, something had been released and she thought she could sleep for a thousand years. She felt rain on her brow and looked up. The night seemed blacker above her and there was a tension in the air that spoke of storm. She kicked her horse.
The Towers of Samarcand (The Mistra Chronicles) Page 40