James Heneage - The Walls of Byzantium

‘Unlikely,’ she replied. ‘Not, you understand, on account of your years. It’s the beard. I can’t manage beards of such length.’

Plethon smiled. He reached over and took his toga from a chair by the side of the bed. ‘How can I be of assistance to you, Zoe?’ he asked, wrapping the folds around his released stomach ‘If it’s not my body you want, am I to presume it’s my mind? Shall we light a candle?’

‘No. Too dangerous and I will not stay long.’

The girl drew her knees up to her chin and hugged her shins with her arms. Her long black hair followed the curve of her back like oil and the profile of her face was sharp with concentration. Her eyelashes curled above her eyeball and she seemed to Plethon like a cat-goddess.

‘You saw Anna this morning,’ she said.

Plethon didn’t answer.

She sighed. ‘I don’t expect you to like me,’ she said, resting her cheek on her knee and looking at him. ‘I am a Mamonas and therefore beyond redemption. But I have helped Anna in the past.’

Plethon still made no comment. He let her consider her next words.

‘I can help you.’

Plethon smiled. Then he said, ‘Anna told me you’ve been away.’

‘The Prince Suleyman desired my presence.’

‘To fire cannon or climb scaling ladders? Your gifts are endless, lady.’

The girl’s face hardened. ‘We all do what we have to, to survive,’ she said quietly, ‘even you. Why else are you here?’

Plethon nodded and pulled the toga tighter around his shoulders. The night breeze was slight but he had shivered. This was a strange world of ever-present danger and he felt it all around.

‘I was in Venice two months ago,’ he said. ‘Your father and brother were there. Did you know that?’

‘No.’

Plethon believed her.

‘I saw them in the Doge’s barge. A great honour.’ He paused. ‘They were with a man called di Vetriano.’

Zoe looked up sharply. She frowned.

Di Vetriano .

‘Why is this interesting?’

‘Because he is working with your father and brother to supply Suleyman with the means to take Constantinople. But then you’ll have worked that out, as you’ll have considered that it may be time to look to different alliances.’ He paused while they studied each other in calculation. ‘You opened the tomb,’ he said.

Zoe breathed deeply and looked away.

‘As soon as Luke left with Suleyman, you went into Constantinople and you opened the tomb. You found something and now you want to make a bargain.’

She released her knees and turned to face him on the bed. ‘I know where to find the treasure in Mistra.’

Plethon considered this. She might just be telling the truth. But, if so, why had she not gone to get it? He lay back against the pillows, putting his hands behind his head. ‘I assume that it’s occurred to you that it might not be gold that lies there?’

She smiled. ‘Of course. The legend has it that it was a single casket that was buried. That wouldn’t be enough gold to be interesting. Certainly not to me, anyway.’

‘So what do you think it is?’

‘I’ve no idea. Something that will save the Empire, they say. Anyway, that’s where you come in. I take you to the treasure, you make use of it in any way you want and I take my reward from a grateful Emperor.’

‘And what would that reward be?’

‘I don’t know yet.’ She got up to leave. ‘I will see you tomorrow dressed for the ride to Mistra.’

The following morning, Luke was riding behind Omar through the hills east of Bursa, leaving the snow-capped peak of Mount Uludağ towering behind them. This was rich farming country, land that had been held by Byzantium for centuries until taken by the Turk. It had been held by akritoi , Greek frontiersmen who’d been exempted taxes in exchange for guarding the border. Many of them were still here, tending their fields next to more recent sipahi settlers. It was a country of hard fields and skeletal trees, a country with its produce stored, a country waiting for the first snows of winter.

Luke pulled his cloak around him. ‘Where are we going, Omar?’

‘We’re going out into the steppe where the nomads live and you’re going to live with them.’

Luke was baffled. How could this be useful to the Empire? ‘But I’m not a nomad,’ he said. ‘I know nothing of their ways.’

‘So you’ll learn.’

Luke thought of his life in Monemvasia and Chios, his life of comfort and friendship and learning. His easy life.

‘Will you be there?’ he asked at last.

‘No, you’ll be on your own. You’ll learn more that way.’

‘But how will I talk to them?’

Omar laughed. ‘Really, Luke, how do you think? You’ll learn their language.’

Luke considered this. He wanted to know more. ‘Tell me about the Germiyans.’

Omar brought his horse to a stop and leant forward in his saddle, both hands on its pommel. ‘The Germiyans were just another tribe of Oghuz Turks that were driven west from their lands around the Caspian Sea,’ he said. ‘But they were well led and expanded their territories under Yakub’s grandfather. His generals established their own beyliks, which took their lands from the Byzantines and stayed friendly with the Germiyans. For a time it seemed that they would become the dominant clan. But then the Osmanoğlu produced one truly inspired leader in Osman and the Ottoman dynasty was born. Four years ago, the Germiyans finally succumbed to their rule.’ Omar smiled. ‘So you can see why Yakub hates Bayezid.’

‘But what of the tribes further to the east?’

‘The Black and White Sheep Ilkhanates? They are what’s left of the Mongol Horde that swept west two centuries ago under Genghis Khan. They are nomads of the same stock as Tamerlane but have settled.’

‘So they’ll not welcome Tamerlane?’

‘No, but they may give him the excuse to invade. Both he and Bayezid count them as vassals.’

Luke pondered this. He asked, ‘So will Tamerlane come?’

Omar lifted his palms to the heavens. ‘That, Luke, is what the world is asking. Tamerlane has unified the Mongol Horde again and broken out of his lands in the east with a savagery never seen before. Great cities have been laid waste as far west as Baghdad, their citizens butchered and towers built of their skulls. No one knows where he’ll go next.’

That night Omar and Luke stayed at a monastery where Christian monks welcomed them with generosity. They ate roasted quail and cabbage and Luke was given hot wine. The monks talked to Omar around the fire and Luke fell asleep to the murmured debate of learned men who wanted to find things to agree about. He didn’t remember being put to bed or the sound of the wind that blew in from the steppe.

They left early and rode all of the next day through land that was unfolding into plain and Omar talked unhurriedly of Islam. Luke listened and thought of Plethon. Two teachers. Two teachers of kindness and patience. Two messages of surprising similarity.

At length they came to the city of Eskişehir, said to be the loveliest in all Anatolia. It had been the birthplace of Osman. They rested there in the caravanserai and shared a meal of roast partridge with men travelling east for the haj.

From Eskişehir they turned south and headed further out into the steppe.

The steppe .

Luke had grown up in a small city on the edge of the sea. He was used to narrow streets and the noise of human exchange. Now all around him was nothing. No buildings, no people, no sound except the wind. There were no towns or villages on the steppe, no trees or fields, no farms. There was nothing but mile after mile of grass and rock and low, sweeping hills, fissures scarring their sides like claw marks. So vast was this land in every direction that it merged with the sky.