James Heneage - The Towers of Samarcand

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 first clap of thunder was not much more than a rumble, the heavens clearing their throat. The second brought her to the ground. It was louder than any she’d ever heard and its effect on her horse was dramatic: it stopped, reared and threw Anna from its back. She landed badly and for a while feared that she’d be trampled. She rolled away and waited for the horse to calm. Then another thunderclap.

‘Anna!’ Luke had turned Eskalon on the first roar and ridden back. He jumped to the ground and ran to her. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘Only my pride,’ she laughed, the rain splashing her face. Anything could happen and she didn’t care. She was alive and here and so was Luke. And he loved her. ‘I’m so tired.’

‘Of course.’ He looked up. The steppe stretched all around and the rain was drilling into the ground. ‘We must find shelter and you must sleep.’

‘But …’

‘No, you must sleep and then we’ll go on. There are hills ahead. We can find shelter there.’ He lifted her in his arms and walked over to Eskalon. ‘We’ll ride together.’ He put her on to his horse and then went to hers. He gathered its reins and tied them to his saddle. Then he mounted Eskalon behind her. ‘Hold on to me.’

And, in a dream, she did. She cradled herself in his arms and felt the warm, strong embrace that she’d felt in a cave on the Goulas of Monemvasia long ago. She wanted so badly to stay awake, to live this moment of pure, rain-soaked joy for eternity. She drifted into sleep thinking of a runaway horse and the moment when he’d held her for the first time. She felt the comfortable rhythm of power beneath her and against her and she fell asleep, smiling.

When she awoke, it was daylight and she was lying on the ground beneath an overhang of rock. She was in dry clothes, warm and covered by blankets. Beside her was Luke. ‘How long have I slept?’

He smiled. ‘A night. You talked a bit.’

‘About you?’

‘Mainly me.’ He kissed her. ‘Others too.’ He looked at her for a long time and she looked back. So much time had passed since they’d last met. He dared ask the question. ‘Did he hurt you?’

‘Suleyman? No. I don’t think he would ever hurt me.’

Luke raised himself to his elbow. ‘Why didn’t he marry you?’

Anna pulled the blanket higher, enjoying the soft wool on her cheek. ‘I kept finding reasons for delay. Then I used his seal without his knowledge and Bayezid found out. He forbade the marriage after that.’

‘And yet you have your annulment.’

‘I have it but don’t need it,’ she replied. ‘Damian’s dead. He fell off the Goulas when he was drunk.’

Luke had not heard. He shook his head, surprised at the pain of the news. Flashes of long-ago memory came to him: Damian, Zoe, him on a donkey led by his mother; the three of them looking for kermes outside Monemvasia. They’d been the best of friends once. Then Eskalon had charged and Damian had been in the way and he’d not forgiven Luke or his horse. Now he was dead.

Anna leant forward. She put her hand to his cheek, hoping to draw some of the sorrow. ‘We can marry, Luke,’ she said softly. ‘You are a hero.’

Luke frowned. ‘On Chios perhaps. But what will I be when Tamerlane sacks Constantinople?’

Anna said: ‘Shulen will bring Mohammed Sultan. He’ll stop Tamerlane.’

‘No he won’t. He didn’t stop him at Aleppo or Damascus. Tamerlane cannot be stopped by anyone.’

‘Except, perhaps, by Zoe. Show me the ring.’

Luke raised his hand and turned it so that Anna could see the ring. It was of gold and pitted with age, its edges worn. On it was some ancient script.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she murmured. ‘What’s written on it?’

Luke shrugged. ‘I showed it to Ibn Khaldun once. He said it was ancient Hebrew. I don’t know what it says. A name perhaps.’

They both examined it in silence. The wind over the steppe made a strange, keening sound as it parted the grass. There was low cloud and the sun was warming some other landscape. Eskalon neighed.

‘We should go,’ said Luke at last.

Anna leant back and stretched. Then she rolled herself towards him so that they were face to face. She kissed him. ‘Not yet, tarkhan.’