Pip Vaughan-Hughes - The Vault of bones

'So. Querini has the Crown, you say. But you have an Inventarium of the chapel – I know, I have seen one, for Emperor Baldwin has been shopping it around every court in Christ's lands. Gregory has one, and Frederick, and God knows who else. Now the saintly King of France has nothing to… I was about to say buy, but that is not the word – you would know better than I. He will receive nothing from Baldwin and will give nothing in gratitude. You and your companions will be denied your commission. And so, if I were in your place, I believe I would indeed rob the chapel’

'But how did you.. ‘ I began. 'I mean, I was planning no such thing. But yes, things are how you have described them otherwise’ I told him hurriedly.

'Very politic, lad’ smiled Michael. 'Very well. Let us say I have deduced that it would be a very good idea for someone standing in your boots to rob the Pharos Chapel of certain relics sequestered there, relics that you know of but which are unknown to the Regent and indeed to the emperor himself’ 'I have no idea what you mean’ I muttered.

'Ah. So you do not possess the Inventarium of Nicholas Mesarites’ said Michael, laying a finger against the pewter stubble on his cheek. 'I thought I gave it to you, but perhaps that was someone else’

'I..’ My mind was not working fast enough. It was barely working at all. I stared past Michael's head, desperately searching for something, anything to say. Instead I saw that someone long ago had taken chalk and drawn a stick man fucking a stick woman. In another place reared a cock, gigantic and gushing, and a pair of gaping thighs. I shook my head, trying to clear it. 'It is too late’ I said at last. 'I am sorry, Sir Doctor. Do not give me back to the Franks, I beg you.'

'There is a window, quite high up.' It was the old man. He was leaning forward, hands gnarled and white-knuckled, gripping his knees, staring at me. 'Quite high up. A man could fit through it – a young man’

I remembered the window, a square of iron grillework above the head of Christ crucified. 'It is bricked up’ I said without thinking.

'No, not bricked’ said the old man. 'There was a sheet of agate there, but it broke, and I had them put a piece of slate in its place, thinking I would find more agate. I never did’

'Who are you, kyrios? I said carefully, searching the seamed face. The sunken eyes glared back at me. 'The grandfather of Zoe’ he muttered.

'This is His Eminence Nicholas Mesarites, late Archbishop of Ephesus’ said Michael, standing up and walking to the old mans side. He laid his hand gently on the twisted shoulder, and the old man smiled. 'And indeed, grandfather to Zoe Argyrina Mesaritissa’ 'But I thought’

'That he was long dead. And you thought the same about me, no doubt, for the world seems to believe me mouldering in my grave while I walk around, hale as a lamb’ said Michael. 'Such is the fate of the old: we die by reputation long before our hearts are stilled’

'But this makes no sense to me’ I protested. ‘Your Excellency Nicholas, I am ashamed, for yes, the doctor is right: I had planned to rob the chapel of those things… those holy relics which you detailed, but which Baldwin does not know he owns. I suppose I thought that King Louis might buy them – your pardon, it is simony, I know, but as you must know, in my profession we do not much bother with the niceties of canon law. I was attempting to salvage something from the ruins of my mission and of my life, and to avenge my beloved master. It seems I have failed’

'Not yet’ said Nicholas Mesarites. 'Not if you can steal the Mandylion of Edessa’ 'So are you not the pope's doctor? ' I had asked Michael Scotus. We had studied a rough-drawn map of the Bucoleon Palace that Mesarites had produced, and he had told me how I might go about entering the Pharos Chapel from outside. It did not seem easy, or indeed possible, but as nothing seemed real any more, and indeed I had begun to wonder again if I might be dead and this some purgatory designed just for me, I went along with the plan, such as it was.

'No, although I have treated him. I live between two worlds, you see’ I looked at him. I knew what worlds he meant, but then again, perhaps I did not. The air seemed to swim faintly before his face, as if I beheld him from a very great distance. Then I blinked, and he was just an old man sitting at my side.

'But I thought you were His Holiness' doctor’ I said, confused. 'It is well known that you used to be the Emperor's…' I was about to say necromancer, but prudence caught my tongue just in time. 'Astrologer’ I went on. 'But also that His Holiness recommended you for the Archbishopric of Canterbury. So…'

A shadow flitted across Michael Scot's face. Then he smiled, wearily. 'Both true’ he said. 'I was with the pope these last few years, but when the Emperor Frederick came down into Italy this year he summoned me. I go where I may serve’ he added, piously. 'Really?' I asked, surprised. Michael laughed. 'No, not really. I no longer need to act out of duty. My motive is love, alas, for I am a friend to both men, though they do not love each other.'

'I have heard that Frederick seeks an alliance with John Vatatzes in Nicea,' I said. 'He knows that this leaking tub of an empire will not last long.'

'Aha. There you have it. I should have expected no less, from the company you keep’

'And Gregory seeks the opposite, for he would like Venice to be a staunch ally in the north against Frederick’

'Right again. And why does Gregory wish to broker the translation of Byzantium's holy relics?'

'To buy the friendship of King Louis, most pious of monarchs,' I said. And to bolster up poor Baldwin.'

Again right. And why should a man ride a skittish war-horse down a busy London street of a winter's morning?'

The silence was absolute. I saw Michael Scot, and yet I did not see him. I saw Anna dead in London. I saw flames dance, and then they became bobbing rafts of ice upon the Sea of Darkness. I was not here. I was a statue, yet uncarved, nothing but silent grains within a block of stone.

'Do you know that, Petroc of Auneford? You do not, and that is as it should be. Still, the answer is on your hand.'

I looked down, as if through a poppy trance, at Anna's ring where it circled my finger.

'But it was an accident. She was kicked by a horse, good Master Michael. Do not say such things. Please do not’ You do not believe that, lad.'

'I… No!' Shaking with fear of what I was about to learn, I looked up into Michael's steady eyes. ‘I cannot believe it, and yet… I know it may be so.'

'Listen to me. When Gregory's interest is aroused, wondrous or terrible things happen. He heard that there was an unmarried – you were not married, were you? – relation of John Vatatzes of Nicea at loose in the world, and thought what a fine match she would make for his poor, weak Baldwin. He would make John into Baldwin's ally, not his deadly foe. This is a terrible thing to tell you, lad, but…'

'Baldwin is married,' I said, desperately, my head spinning. ‘If the pope cannot annul a marriage, who can?' 'No! That cannot be! It is… monstrous!'

'Querini found out, for he has eyes and ears in the pope's court. He could not allow Baldwin's fortunes to change. And so…'

The man at the door of the Blue Falcon, a soldier with a scarred face. I closed my eyes and saw Fulk de Grez waiting for Anna at the noon hour with his message from a place dear to her heart. We had thought Fulk's letter had hinted at Nicea, but it had not: it had spoken of that city at the centre of every Greek's world: Constantinople. Then the great horse reared up in my mind's eye, and I clapped my hands to my head to drive out the image of Anna's hair, blue-black against the Cheapside mud.