Women want protection.
Those slight shoulders were drooping; there was sadness in her bearing and it gave him pause. She was grieving, she had married him because she had needed protection. The gift of her body had been part of the arrangement between them, their unspoken arrangement. Yet she had, he was confident, had her joy of him.
She is attracted to me.
There was much that confused him. Most worrying was Theodora’s connection to the Prince of Zeta. She had seen the man who frightened her on her way to Hagia Sophia, and had said his name was Boda. Did Boda have some kind of hold over her? Why would she not explain? Why could she not be open with him? She was a mystery.
Finally, when Nikolaos had given up all hope of learning any more about his cousin or her fears, her chest heaved. Small fingers squeezed his. ‘Prince Peter trusted your cousin, Nikolaos. As did I. That is all I can say. I am sorry...’
With a pang, Nikolaos realised he should not have reminded her of Prince Peter. Her mouth had gone down at the corners, misery was coming off her in waves. It was no way for a bride to be on the morning after her wedding. ‘Princess, I can see you are unhappy, it would help if you could see your way to telling me what it is you need.’
She went a shade paler. ‘I thank you, Nikolaos, there is nothing I need.’
Nikolaos stared at her, willing her to enlarge, and though she gave him a quiet smile, she said nothing more. She is grieving for her dead Prince.
Nikolaos had opened his mouth, intending to tell her that he would do his best to ensure her happiness, when there was a sharp rapping on the door.
‘Despoina? Lord Nikolaos? I have brought water, water and refreshments.’
Lady Sophia. Water. Refreshments. Hell. Further questions would have to wait. Nikolaos shoved his hand through his hair and rose. ‘Come in.’
Looking meaningfully at his bride, he gestured at the crowns on the side-table. ‘It is time to face the world again. We will have to wear those wretched things outside the apartment.’ And while we are in public, I will have little chance of encouraging you to open up to me. Somehow, he must teach her to trust him.
Straightening her shoulders, she nodded. ‘It is customary.’
Her lady-in-waiting entered at the head of a small train of servants bearing water and trays and, judging by the light pouring in from the reception chamber, it was time Nikolaos was elsewhere. He had a meeting to attend.
‘My apologies, Theodora, I must leave you this morning,’ he said, bowing over her hand. His eyes locked with hers. ‘I have had my fill of eating in public, so with your permission, Princess, I shall return to our apartment this evening so we may share our evening meal in peace and quiet.’
Theodora gave him a startled look. ‘Am I not expected to dine in the hall in the women’s quarters?’
‘Naturally, it is for you to decide, but I should like to get to know you better. And if you are dining in the women’s quarters...’ he grimaced. ‘Hang the conventions. I would rather you dined in here. With me.’
‘Very well. I shall look forward to it, my lord.’
Theodora watched her husband stride out of the bedchamber with mixed feelings. Her evasiveness had disappointed him. Regret sliced through her, like a blade. He mistrusted her. From the first, Duke Nikolaos had struck her as a man of deep loyalty and uncompromising integrity. Why else would the Emperor trust him at the head of his army?
So straightforward a man would never understand the complex set of circumstances that forced her to deceive him. Such a man could never imagine what she had been forced to do in order to guard Martina. When he learned the extent of her deceptions, she would lose any chance of a happy marriage. And that mattered—suddenly, alarmingly, that mattered very much. She wanted their marriage to succeed.
Nevertheless her noble, upright husband had managed to shock her this morning. He is cousin to Brother Leo! In his capacity as confessor to Peter of Rascia, Theodora had come to know Brother Leo well. She had made many a confession to Brother Leo; she had attended many a service at which he had officiated—mass, evensong, weddings...
She and Peter had often talked long into the night and when she had been younger Brother Leo had acted as her guardian. More than that, he had become a dear friend. It had been Brother Leo who had suggested that should anything happen to Peter, Duke Nikolaos of Larissa would be best placed to take care of her. However, not once during any of their discussions could Theodora remember Brother Leo mentioning that the Duke was related to him.
‘Which gown this morning, my lady?’ Sophia asked, breaking into her thoughts.
‘The blue one with the stars on the skirts,’ Theodora said, absently.
In all honour I ought to tell Nikolaos about his cousin’s death. Yet if I do tell him, he will have more questions. And I will have to give him more half-truths, more evasions...and every half-truth and every evasion will put more strain on our marriage. He will be pushed further and further away.
Theodora held out her arms for the blue gown to be slipped on. She submitted to Sophia dressing her hair and setting the wedding crown in place. With every moment her heart grew heavier. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. Martina will have to be sent away. I cannot take the risk of keeping her here.
Twice she opened her mouth to tell Sophia as much. Twice she closed it again.
Sophia pinned and tweaked, and tweaked and pinned. Finally, her gown and wedding crown were in place and the silver and gold bangles were jingling at her wrists. Theodora sank on to the mulberry-coloured bedcovers with a sigh. She had not even broken her fast and already she was worn-out. A ball of misery sat tight in her guts.
Soon the servants would make up the bed, they would tidy the pillows that lay askew from her night with her new husband, the fading violets would be thrown away. A lump rose in her throat. Physically she and Nikolaos had been so close. The wedding night—and the man—had far exceeded her expectations, so much so that for a few happy moments she had deluded herself into thinking she could trust him with everything. Nevertheless, here she was the next morning and the gulf between them was wider than the Hellespont.
Her eyes stung. Martina! She covered her face with her hands.
‘My lady! Whatever is the matter?’ Sophia asked, gently peeling her hands from her face. Dimly Theodora was aware of Sophia dismissing servants, of the bedchamber door closing. ‘Did the Duke hurt you?’
Sophia’s face was lost in a haze of tears. ‘No, he didn’t hurt me. Far from it.’
‘What is it then?’ Sophia drew back. ‘You are thinking of Prince Peter?’
‘No, no, it’s not that, it’s...’ Theodora’s voice broke on a sob. Blindly, she grasped Sophia’s hand and fought for control. This wasn’t like her—Princess Theodora never cried. She dashed her tears away. ‘It seems I must cede to your wisdom, Sophia.’
‘My lady?’
‘You were right about Martina, she cannot stay here.’
‘I wondered when you would realise.’
Rising, Theodora began pacing up and down. ‘You were right and I was wrong. The Duke is too intelligent to be deceived for long, particularly with Martina right under his nose. And last night...’ she felt a flush rise ‘...the Duke realised I was not innocent.’
‘He was angry?’
‘Thankfully not.’ He spared me his anger because we are a match in bed. ‘However, if we were to feed him the tale that I have adopted the child of a slave, he would be quick to make connections. He would know Martina is my child and then... Sophia, that must not happen!’
Thoughtfully, Sophia tapped her teeth with a nail. ‘I wonder...’
‘Martina must leave this apartment. Where can she go? She must be close by—I shall need to see her as much as possible.’
‘There’s that nearby convent—’
‘No. A convent is far too... There are too many unknowns. Martina must be with people we can trust.’ Abruptly, Theodora stopped pacing. ‘I have it! I shall send her to Kat
erina—Commander Ashfirth has the house under guard at all times. There are young children in Katerina’s household already—Martina will not be out of place.’
‘What about Commander Ashfirth? Will he object?’
‘He’s a reasonable man, he adores Katerina and he knows she loves children. I shall pay them a visit shortly to explain. Hopefully it won’t be for long.’
‘Princess, much as it pains me to say this, it might be for some time.’
‘It won’t be for long,’ Theodora said firmly. If she spoke with enough determination, she might come to believe it. ‘Just until I can think of a way of having Martina close that will not rouse the Duke’s suspicions.’
‘That won’t be easy.’
‘Sophia—’ Theodora put steel in her voice ‘—I shall think of something.’
‘My lady, you say the Duke accepted your lack of innocence without difficulty—do you not think it possible he might accept Martina too?’
Theodora stiffened. ‘It is too soon to tell him about Martina.’
Sophia gave her a puzzled look. ‘The Duke seems direct and realistic, my lady. A man of the world—he has accepted you...’
Theodora took a deep breath and willed herself to speak calmly. ‘I can’t risk telling him about Martina.’
‘As you say, despoina. But I do think the Duke could support you. Martina may be illegitimate, but she is still a princess of Rascia. Her welfare is important, he will see that.’
Forcing a smile, Theodora pushed her secrets to the back of her mind. ‘One day I may tell him, but for the present it is best if Martina goes to Katerina. I trust Katerina, and if Martina is at her house I can see her every day.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘Tell Jelena to pack for herself and for Martina. And please explain where she is going.’ She reached for the door latch. ‘Thetis can summon my escort, I shall ride on ahead to alert Katerina. It is only courteous that I speak to her first.’
‘Katerina appreciates your past generosity—I am sure she will not refuse.’
‘Nevertheless, I should like to speak to her. As soon as Jelena and Martina are ready, you may bring them to Katerina’s. And, Sophia...’
‘My lady?’
Theodora held herself very straight. ‘It is most fortunate that the Duke has accepted my lack of innocence. It would be a great pity if he came to hear that a baby was smuggled out of our chambers. Be very discreet.’
* * *
On returning that evening to the quarters he shared with his wife, Nikolaos found her in the reception chamber. She had her back to the door and was staring out at a sky that was bright as a furnace; it burned with crimson and gold, molten colours which had spread over the Sea of Marmara as though poured from a vast crucible. The water looked like beaten copper.
‘Good evening, Theodora.’
He thought he heard her sniff. She didn’t answer, merely gave a slight nod and continued looking out over the sea. Like him, she was wearing her wedding crown. When she continued staring through the window, Nikolaos slipped his arm round her waist and pulled her firmly against him. She neither accepted nor rejected the embrace, remaining immobile at his side.
‘It is so beautiful,’ she murmured. ‘I had forgotten.’
Nikolaos felt a flash of anger—she hadn’t bothered to look at him, she was almost ignoring his presence. Was this how it was going to be? Not only was she avoiding his questions about his cousin, now she was barely acknowledging him. Reaching out, he turned her to face him. ‘Princess?’
She was crying, her brown eyes were awash with tears. ‘Princess?’ His anger evaporated, his chest felt tight.
Flushing, she dashed her tears away. ‘It is nothing. As I said...’ her voice was choked as she waved vaguely at the sea ‘...the beauty here...I had forgotten...it overwhelmed me for a moment.’
Blinking rapidly, she looked at him through damp eyelashes and a delicate finger lifted to touch his crown. ‘Good evening, Nikolaos. I had not thought to see you still wearing this.’
She gave him a wobbly smile. There were tear-tracks on her cheeks, it was obvious she had been crying for some time. Nikolaos doubted very much that his wife had been moved by the sunset—she was grieving for Prince Peter. Helpless in the face of such misery, Nikolaos bent and kissed a tearstained cheek. ‘Good evening, wife.’
Clearly, this was not the night to interrogate her, he would have to bide his time before questioning her further. A few hours could not make much difference—he could ask her about her involvement with Prince Djuradj on the morrow. And his questions concerning the welfare of his cousin? They, too, could wait.
* * *
Theodora’s husband had left the apartment the following morning, muttering about a polo match he was organising to honour the Emperor’s accession. Theodora had only half heard him, her mind was on Martina. Has she settled in at Katerina’s house? I must find out. She dressed for riding in a leaf-green gown and was soon ready.
She and Sophia were in the reception chamber, on the point of heading for the stables with their escort when an officer of the Athanatoi Cavalry came in.
‘Princess—’ the officer bowed ‘—a lady has brought you a message.’
The messenger turned out to be one Lady Anthousa, a senior lady-in-waiting to Empress Irene. Theodora had no clear recollection of Lady Anthousa, only a vague memory of her being close to her mother. Notwithstanding this, etiquette required that Lady Anthousa be offered refreshments. Under normal circumstances, if Theodora were not in such a fever to see Martina, she would be eager to talk with an old friend of her mother’s.
So it was that, instead of hurrying straight to her daughter as she had hoped, Theodora found herself exchanging courtesies with Lady Anthousa.
‘Welcome back, Princess,’ Lady Anthousa said, wrapping her in a scented embrace. ‘I expect it is a relief to be home.’
‘Naturally I am pleased to see the City once more,’ Theodora said, ‘though I deeply regret the loss of Prince Peter.’
‘Of course, of course.’ The older woman’s gaze lingered on Theodora’s wedding crown. ‘May I offer my best wishes on your marriage?’
‘Thank you.’
‘I knew your mother well.’
Theodora studied Lady Anthousa. She was a matronly woman and a long-forgotten incident came back to her. ‘I believe I remember playing with your daughter, Camilla. Is she well?’
Lady Anthousa’s eyes brightened. ‘Indeed she is—she is married herself, with three children.’
‘Three? How lovely.’
‘I have seven grandchildren altogether. Oh, my lady, I was not sure you would recall us, you were away so long.’ She leaned closer. ‘My dear, your mother would be delighted at this marriage. She was so anxious when you left, she fought against your betrothal to Prince Peter.’
‘She did?’ Theodora seized on Lady Anthousa’s words, greedy for insight into her mother’s mind. Never in her presence had her mother raised objections about her betrothal to Prince Peter. She had spoken much of duty, of the honour being done to her, of the need to uphold the dignity of the Empire and the necessity of remembering at all times that she was a princess. But raise objections? Never in Theodora’s presence.
Lady Anthousa nodded. ‘Your mother knew your betrothal to Prince Peter was expedient, a political necessity, but that did not mean she was happy about it. She fought like a lion to stop you being sent away.’
‘I never knew,’ Theodora murmured.
Lady Anthousa patted her hand. ‘I thought you might not.’ She smiled and glanced at the wedding crown. ‘Your mother would much have preferred this alliance, she would be so relieved you have come home. You are happy?’
What could she say? ‘Yes.’
‘It is too soon, but I pray you are as blessed with children as I was...’
Lady Anthousa chatted on. She was pleased about the regime change; she loved being a lady-in-waiting to Theodora’s cousin, Empress Irene; she was pleased the w
eather was at last turning warm; she was pleased there was a new cook in the Palace...
Theodora’s mind began to wander. Her foot tapped. She liked Lady Anthousa, but, delighted though she was to be talking to a friend of her mother’s, this was not the best of times. Martina! She cleared her throat. ‘Excuse me, my lady, I believe you had a message for me?’
‘Oh! My apologies, my dear, in the excitement of finally seeing you, I quite forgot. A celebratory feast is taking place in the women’s dining hall tonight. The Empress wishes you to attend.’
‘A celebratory feast?’ Theodora did not conceal her surprise. The Emperor was known to be doing penance for seizing the throne and many courtiers were keen to show their loyalty by following his lead. Why, even she and Nikolaos had had to have a special dispensation to be married early. This was largely why the banquet after their wedding had been kept small. ‘What about the forty days of sackcloth and ashes? What about the fasting? I thought it was to continue until Ascentiontide.’
‘The fasting is all but done and this is not really a feast. It’s for Lady Euphemia of Thera.’ With a covert glance at the guards by the doors, Lady Anthousa lowered her voice. ‘She believed herself to be barren, but has recently been brought to bed with a son. Will you attend?’
‘I shall be delighted, except...’ Theodora hesitated. Nikolaos had expressed a wish that they dine on their own in the apartment again. Last night Nikolaos had been quiet, conversation had been slow. It was only when they had taken to their bed that matters had improved...thankfully there was one area where communication did not seem to present any problems. One touch and the man reduced her to a bundle of needs, she liked to imagine that he felt the same. Maybe he did not at the moment, but with time...
With a wrench, Theodora brought herself back to the present. Lady Anthousa was waiting for her reply. Nikolaos would have to understand, she could hardly refuse the Empress.
Betrothed to the Barbarian Page 17