The Bloody Crown
Page 23
‘No,’ she replied, her voice softening at his promise of sacrifice. ‘You have a good heart, Deda, and great courage, and I would not see that wasted on me. Stay with your wife. In the days to come, she will need your protection as much as I. This business is only the beginning of Karas’ attempt upon the throne, and of his vengeance. I know his foul heart. He will not rest until he has brought doom to his enemies, and to his enemies’ kin, and to all who walked with them. Watch your own back.’
‘Where will you go?’ Rowena asked.
Anna thought for a moment, and when her eyes sparkled Deda glimpsed her old defiance returning. ‘There is only one place in this city where I will be safe.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
DEDA AND ANNA hurried out into the sun and crossed the street to the shade on the other side. As they slipped into the crowd of baffled onlookers trying to make sense of the din drawing nearer by the moment, they ducked down, catching their breath. The knight watched Anna’s face harden as she began to calculate her options for survival.
‘Not a moment too soon,’ she whispered.
The emperor’s men surged up the street and crashed into the building where the Comnenoi had been only moments earlier.
‘We should find a hiding place for you,’ Deda urged, trying to steer Anna into the maze of narrow streets at their backs.
Anna smiled and shook her head. ‘No, hiding is the last thing I should do. Now we must buy time for Alexios and Isaac to escape. I will bring the whole of the emperor’s wrath upon me, if that is what it takes.’
Deda felt only respect for her courage, but his neck prickled with fear at what was to come. With his hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword, his eyes searching every doorway and alley, he followed her through the streets. Past the hippodrome they hurried, and the church of St Euphemia, until Anna plunged into the crowds thronging the forum of Constantine.
Keeping his head down, Deda looked around the square. It was thronging with life. Some were conducting business, haggling and haranguing; some rushed by with their arms laden with goods. Others dawdled and chatted. He felt a pang of worry that in the bustle he might not be able to draw his sword at need.
Within moments, he caught sight of knots of the emperor’s men pushing through the assembled crowds.
‘When they come for me, step away and hurry back to Rowena,’ Anna whispered, leaning in. ‘Whatever threats they make. They will not harm me here among the people.’
Though he did not agree, Deda nodded his assent. A moment later, Anna found the steps at the foot of the forum’s monument and clambered up them so she could be seen above the crowd. ‘My sons are no traitors,’ she shouted. ‘They are heroes of the empire.’ Her sharp voice carved through the babble of voices, and as heads turned and silence fell it reached to a band of the emperor’s men. As they rushed forward, Deda stepped away from her, but kept his sword hand ready.
Anna showed no fear as the men surrounded her. Deda watched, poised to rush to her rescue should it be necessary. His promise be damned. He could not stand by and see her harmed. He counted six of the emperor’s men, and no doubt many more nearby. How many could he take out? Yet they looked unsure if they should brandish their weapons. They had probably never captured a woman before, and certainly not one of Anna’s standing.
Peering over her captors’ heads, Anna called, ‘You all know my sons, Alexios and Isaac. They are heroes of the empire, are they not?’
A ripple of agreement ran through the crowd, growing louder. Soon men and women were yelling for Anna Dalassene to be left alone. The emperor’s men lowered their eyes, growing ever more uneasy in the presence of the mob around them, but they kept the circle tight. Finally, one of them whispered to another, who raced off.
‘You will wait here,’ one of the group commanded.
Anna only smiled.
Looking around, Deda could see that Anna’s ploy had worked. The crowd thickened as the raucous voices grew louder.
After a few moments, the bodies separated and Falkon Cephalas pushed his way through, with the man who had run off. Falkon waved his hand and the circle of the emperor’s men opened.
‘The emperor has requested your attendance,’ he said.
‘The emperor has requested my attendance,’ Anna repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘There are troubles here, Falkon, and great ones. My sons are loyal to the emperor, every man and woman here knows that.’
‘I am told they have fled the city,’ Falkon replied. ‘Is that the behaviour of innocents?’
‘They are saving themselves. This day we have learned of a plot by the enemies of the Comnenoi . . . ones who can only be enemies of the empire. A plot to blind them both!’
More angry voices punctuated her words. Anna had the crowd in her hand. She drove them into battle on her behalf like a seasoned general.
‘Yes, they have fled the city,’ she continued, ‘but only so they may continue to offer loyal service to our emperor.’
‘And why did you not go with them if you fear for your family?’ Falkon asked.
‘Because I have put my faith in God, Falkon. Would you deny me that?’
Her words whipped the crowd to even greater frenzy. Bodies buffeted the small circle of guards. Falkon looked around, calculating the threat.
‘Let me pray!’ Anna cried. ‘Let me petition God for protection for my sons, for myself, for all the Comnenoi.’
So loud was the response that Deda knew Falkon had no choice but to agree. With a low bow, he swept his arm in the direction of the Hagia Sophia.
Pressing her palms together, lifting her chin and peering through heavily lidded eyes, Anna began to walk. The circle of armed men dogged her steps, the cheering crowd swarming all around.
Matching her pace, Deda pushed through the milling crowd to keep up. He kept his head down to avoid drawing attention to himself, but he could not help a smile at Anna’s performance as he watched her turn her face up to the heavens, her mouth an O of beatific ecstasy. As she glided across the forum and along the Mese to the Milion monument, the cheering crowds reached out to her.
When she began to cross the square to the Hagia Sophia, Deda spun round at loud cries. Royal guards from the Scholae Palatinae wearing their familiar golden torcs were racing up, demanding that Anna be brought back to the palace.
Anna must have heard, for although she didn’t look round, she walked faster. At the same time, she bowed her head as if crushed beneath the weight of her grief. The crowd’s cheers grew louder still.
Dwarfed by the grand entrance to the Hagia Sophia, she paused at those three arches under the great stone buttresses and muttered something to the keepers. With a flourish they threw the door open. Deda stiffened. The royal guards were lashing out on all sides to force a path through the crowd. There was still time for them to drag her back to face Nikephoros’ wrath.
‘Help me,’ Anna cried. ‘Please, God, help me.’
Though she had called out to the Lord, the crowd seemed to take it upon themselves to be his agents upon the earth. Yelling and shaking their fists, the people flooded into the path of the Scholae Palatinae. They were thirty deep, Deda saw, and from their angry resistance it was clear they were not about to budge. He squeezed through the bodies to the entrance to watch Anna’s final display.
Crossing herself, she swept through the church to the inner sanctuary and bowed twice to God. On the third bow, she grasped the iron rings upon the closed doors of the sanctuary and slid to her knees. Her voice soaring up into the vault overhead, she cried, ‘Let not my blood be spilled. Let no man dare harm me in this house of God, for the Lord will protect me. Unless my hands are cut off, I will not leave this holy place except on one condition: that I receive the emperor’s cross as guarantee of safety.’
The crowd roared, and Deda nodded. Anna had escaped the emperor’s clutches. Nikephoros had underestimated her, and now she had bought the Comnenoi their last chance.
CHAPTER FORTY
Ariadne crouched in a shadowed alley and waited as a group of the soldiers hurried by. Once she was sure they had all passed, she held up a hand to signal to the others. She felt haunted by the failure of the previous night, though Salih had repeatedly insisted that she should not blame herself for Hereward’s death; there was nothing she could have done. But of one thing they could all be sure – she would not fail again.
Alexios and Isaac crept along the alley, with Salih close behind. Ariadne pointed the way down a narrow rat-run between the rear of the merchants’ stores and the rows of workshops. Though it disappeared into shadow, she knew it would lead them away from the crowds.
‘What fools we were.’ Ariadne heard the bitterness in Isaac’s voice as he squeezed along the path. ‘We should have known Karas would come for us again once his plan in the west had failed. Even if he had seized the throne, he could never have rested while the Comnenoi were here to challenge him.’
‘You know this city better than I,’ Alexios whispered to Ariadne. He took her hand and looked into her eyes. ‘Without your help, we would never have escaped alive. We will always be in your debt.’
Ariadne nodded, but it was not enough. When she closed her eyes, all she could see was Hereward falling beneath the Blood Eagle’s axe. She blinked away the vision and led the way along the narrow path.
Through the hidden byways of the city they hurried, clambering over spoil heaps, sneaking past workshops ringing with hammers, ghosting through tranquil gardens, always keeping far away from any area thronging with life. The day drew on. The sun slipped towards the horizon. At the forum of Arcadius, beyond the Vlanga to the west, she took a north-west turn along the quieter road through Xerolophos. That would lead them to the gate of Rhesios in the city wall on the slopes of the Seventh Hill.
Ariadne watched the others march along the dusty road. Alexios and Isaac were sweating, but their determination kept the weariness at bay. Salih was a pool of shadow, cool and calm. They kept their voices low when they talked, but she heard hope in their tones, which pleased her. That emotion seemed in short supply.
As the cistern of Mocius rose up on their left, they heard the sound of many feet approaching and scrambled off the road to hide. A war-band thirty strong strode towards the city. The men were filthy, wearing little more than rags, but they carried swords and axes that seemed to shine like new.
Once they had passed, Alexios growled, ‘Karas Verinus’ men, no doubt. He builds his army by the day, ready to seize the throne.’
‘How long before that bastard makes his move?’ Isaac asked, watching the war-band march into the dusty distance.
Alexios exchanged a glance with his brother. ‘These are desperate days. Time is short.’
‘Do not think about staying and fighting.’ Salih’s face was like stone, his voice gravelly. ‘You command no strength in the city. But while you are gone you will have allies here fighting for you. Do not doubt that.’
Alexios nodded. As Salih led them back to the road, Ariadne was proud that she had chosen to follow him.
Soon after, the western wall loomed, a thick band of black against the reddening sky. As they neared, it soared up high over their heads, as broad as five men lying head to toe. The empire’s standard, a golden double-headed eagle on a red background, fluttered in the late-afternoon breeze. Ariadne craned her neck, but could see no movement. The guards would be in their chamber atop the wall, out of the merciless sun but able to see anyone approaching across the western plain.
The horses were tethered in the growing gloom next to the gate, fed and watered and ready to carry messengers into the city. Ariadne watched Alexios and Isaac sneak up to them, taking care not to cause alarm. They were good horsemen and took two mounts without any disturbance.
Ariadne waited at the foot of the stone steps while Salih crept up to the guards’ chamber. Death waits in silence, the Varangians said, and there was no one more silent than her master. He returned scant moments later, wiping the silver blade he carried at his waist. Ariadne met his eyes, acknowledging the necessity. She felt uneasy that good Romans had died, but they were desperate now.
Alexios and Isaac hurried to crank the gate open before reinforcements arrived. Once the two men had mounted, Ariadne reached up to take Alexios’ hand. ‘God goes with you,’ she murmured.
‘Your mother will be kept safe, as long as I live, and Maria too. You have my word on that,’ Salih said.
Alexios looked down at Salih and Ariadne and nodded his thanks. ‘We are at our lowest ebb, but this tide will turn, never fear.’ Ariadne heard defiance in his voice.
She frowned as something passed between Alexios and Salih, a hint, perhaps, of hope they both shared but neither dared voice, or perhaps a shadow of some secret to which she was not privy.
She watched the Comnenoi gallop towards the fat red orb of the setting sun until a cloud of their dust swallowed them up.
‘They are brave, but for now their time is over.’ Salih ibn Ziyad turned away and hurried back along the road towards the darkness gathering above the city. ‘And soon, perhaps, it will be time for us to follow them.’
Ariadne felt a pang of worry. She could not abandon Leo. ‘What say you?’
‘Karas Verinus has removed his greatest rival. Now only the Nepotes remain. They will fight like starving dogs, but soon they too will be gone. Then he will be free to seize the crown. But a man like Karas Verinus will not approach the throne like a thief in the night. These streets will run red with blood. We must be ready.’
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
THE TORCH FLARED as the door opened. A wash of light shimmered across the stone walls and a blast of dank air reeking of wet straw rushed out of the dark.
‘There.’ The guard jerked his head along the tunnel. ‘At the end.’ He grunted, bored, and shuffled back to his chamber to return to his bread and olives.
Deda took the torch from the wall, the pitch spitting. He glanced at Rowena and forced a weak smile. It was worse than they had thought. Behind them, Guthrinc stooped, the top of his head brushing the dungeon tunnel’s roof. Four days had passed since Anna had sought sanctuary in the Hagia Sophia, and the knight wondered how she was. But this matter was more pressing.
Rats scurried ahead of them as they made their way through the gloom deep beneath the Great Palace. In the cell at the end of the passage, the pale figure they had come to see recoiled from the light, throwing one arm across his eyes.
‘They treat you well?’ Deda felt a wave of pity.
Alric rested his head against the wall and forced a grin that failed to mask his exhaustion. ‘The last time I was held captive, they cut off my fingers,’ he replied, holding up his stump. ‘Holding on to my pieces . . . to me, that is well.’
‘No beatings?’ Guthrinc asked.
Alric shook his head.
‘That is good. I thought I might have to crack heads.’ He leaned down and offered the monk the lip of a water-skin. ‘Fresh. Slake your thirst.’
As he drank, Deda nodded to Rowena. While she hurried to the door to keep watch, the knight crouched beside the monk and whispered, ‘We must not be seen here. Karas is looking for any excuse to remove all likely enemies from the field of battle.’
Alric leaned forward. The knight saw his eyes widen with eagerness. ‘Can you free me?’
Shaking his head, Deda replied, ‘For the price of a little coin, the guard let us in to see you. But Karas has eyes everywhere and we would be seized before we had left the palace.’ He felt guilty for shattering the other man’s hopes.
The monk sagged back against the wall. ‘I do not know how much time I have left to me.’
‘We have heard the lies,’ Guthrinc said, stooping. ‘All Constantinople has heard.’
‘That I gave poison to the prophet,’ the monk replied with bitterness, ‘and now he hangs on the edge of death. If he survives, I will face questions, ordeals . . . and if he dies, I will follow him.’
‘Karas is cunning,’ Deda murmured. ‘Step by step, he bends all Constantinople to his will. The prophet cannot speak out against him.’
‘As Hereward planned,’ the monk interjected.
Guthrinc frowned, puzzled by this news, but before he could say anything Deda continued, ‘His enemies are falling. The Comnenoi are in hiding. He tightens his grip upon the government by the day, buys the favour of advisers, whispers in the emperor’s ear. Soon he will make his move upon the throne.’
‘And then my days are done,’ Alric said, his smile tight. ‘And all our days, no doubt.’
‘Keep a fire in your heart,’ Rowena called from the door.
Deda watched the giant Englishman crouch to reassure the monk. ‘We will not let one of our own rot down here. Not one of us will rest until you are free.’
‘I will keep faith, as always.’ Alric’s voice did not waver.
When Deda glanced back, the last thing he saw was the monk’s smile receding into the gloom. And then the dark swept in.
As the trio left the lower levels and climbed the stone steps back to palace life, a large shadow loomed across the sunlit doorway above. Deda sensed the others stiffen.
Neophytos the eunuch furrowed his brow when they emerged into the light. ‘Are you lost? I would think there is little for you in the bowels of this place.’
Deda bowed. The monk seemed to be growing larger by the day. He did not like this man, with his snake-tongue and his insincere smile. ‘And you are far from your cell at the monastery. I would think you would be praying for your kin with all that is happening in Constantinople.’
The eunuch bowed back, the fat rolling under his tunic. ‘God has already smiled upon my kin. The Nepotes are blessed.’