James Heneage - The Walls of Byzantium

Hurry .

He punched up again. There was a pause and he heard the sound of wood shifting, of a rope straining. The slice of light grew into an oblong and then, slowly, into a square. Within the square, circled, were the faces of men.

‘Help me up,’ he breathed, his voice almost taken by the cold. ‘I’m heavy. I’ve got something on my back.’

In Mistra, it was an hour before dawn and the night was clear and bright with stars. There was a quarter-moon which gave small light to the little city on the side of the hill. But then no one was abroad except the messenger cats.

It was some hours since the Despot had emerged from the church of St Sophia and told the people still keeping vigil to go home. Now, even the breeze had gone, perhaps taking the soul of Simon Laskaris to some other, kinder world.

The church was quiet but some light could be seen in the little windows high in the side chapel where he’d been buried.

Anna looked up at them and rubbed her eyes. She should feel exhausted, she knew, following her ride and the long talk with her mother. But things had happened to keep her awake.

First, she’d felt the presence of Luke. Not there, but in her bedroom where she’d lain, trying to sleep.

He was coming to her, she was sure of it.

She’d risen, put on a shawl and crept past the room where Zoe was sleeping to tiptoe down the stone staircase and out into the street. She’d walked to the city gate where the stables were and she’d found Eskalon. It was dark and difficult to tell stall from stall, but he’d called to her and she’d found him. She’d taken his big head between her hands and lowered it so that she could look deep into those brown eyes. Where she’d seen him before.

He wasn’t there.

Then she’d sat on a bale of hay and wept for a long, long time. Luke was somewhere far away and was going further. And she had to marry Suleyman.

She looked over to where Eskalon’s head was turned towards her, watching her, and she felt a sudden longing to lead him from the stable and let him take her to wherever Luke was. Eskalon would know where to go.

She even rose and walked over and closed her eyes and put her cheek to his neck, breathing in his horse-smell; the smell of Luke.

Where are you?

Finally, she’d left and slowly, slowly walked back to the house, every footstep pulling its chain of misery. But as she’d approached the gate, she’d seen movement in the little square behind it. A figure, definitely female, was hurrying across. Anna stepped back into the shadows.

Zoe .

Anna sank further into the shadows and drew her shawl over her head. Where was Zoe going at this time of night?

Why do I even need to ask? You’re going to the treasure .

She heard soft footfall drawing nearer. Then Zoe was passing her, almost at a run. Anna waited a while, then followed her.

Zoe was climbing the streets of the city with the stealth of a cat, keeping to the shadows and constantly turning her head to left and right. Once she stopped and turned and Anna just had time to back into a doorway. Had she been seen?

When Anna stepped out into the street, Zoe was no longer ahead.

Where did you go?

Anna lifted her nightdress and quickened her step, passing the shadows of shop booths on either side. She rounded one corner then another, going faster all the time.

Still no Zoe.

She came to the big square on which the palace stood. Two guards were bent over a brazier, warming their hands against the first chill of winter.

Then she was across it and still climbing. Was Zoe ahead of her or had she stopped somewhere?

Anna reached the little square in front of the church of St Sophia. She saw the dark bulk of the cistern and the well by its side, shadowed by a yew tree between. There was light inside the church.

Anna considered what to do. If Zoe was in there, it was because she thought the treasure was there too. And if she meant to remove it, she’d need help. Male help. Were there others in there with her?

She turned and began to walk back down the hill. She would need to find Plethon quickly and Plethon was asleep inside the palace. Ahead of her, she saw the guards huddled around the brazier. She walked up to them.

‘Which of you is in command?’

The guards looked at each other. Had they understood? Then one of them stepped forward. ‘I am in charge.’ The accent was thick.

Albanians .

Anna took a deep breath. ‘You know the one they call Plethon?’

The man nodded.

‘Go into the palace and find him. Tell him Anna is in the church. With Zoe and others. Do you understand? Zoe and others.’

The man nodded again, then leant down to pick up his helmet. Anna turned and began to climb the hill again, reaching the little square with the yew. She crossed it and tiptoed up the steps to the church’s door. It was fractionally open. She pushed it, praying that it wouldn’t creak, and listened. No sound, just the sombre stillness of an empty church and her own, careful breathing. She walked in.

Inside, there was some light. It came from the side chapel at the end, the chapel where her father lay. It was a soft, unwavering light and it held her gaze for some moments before a shadow passed before it.

You’re here .

Anna crept along the wall of the church, placing one foot in front of the other with infinite care, until she reached the altar where she stopped and crouched low. She could smell herbs now, the thyme and rosemary that had been laid either side of her father’s body when he’d slept on his velvet bed. An owl cried outside and was answered by another.

She rose slowly and edged along the side of the altar until she could see inside the chapel.

Zoe was kneeling on the floor with a candle in one hand. She seemed to be reading the inscription engraved on the marble tomb below. Simon Laskaris’s tomb was on the other side of the chapel, an open grave with its slab to one side, awaiting its own inscription.

Zoe looked up and stared for some time at the mural above the altar. Then she rose and walked towards it, holding the candle aloft.

As the light approached the mural, Anna could just see the painting of figures surrounding a tomb, a tomb that had been opened. One figure lay propped against its front: a soldier asleep, a sword in his hand. Zoe lifted the candle and its light fell upon the sword.

Anna gasped and clutched hold of the altar. She held her breath, the blood pounding in her temples. Zoe stood very still in front of her, the candle held high.

Have you heard me?

But Zoe was still studying the painting. Anna narrowed her eyes to see what she was seeing. It was Luke’s sword. There was no mistaking it. The dragon pommel, the hilt. It was Luke’s sword.

And its blade was pointing towards the tomb where Zoe had knelt.

Anna’s mind raced. Plethon had talked of a mural in some church in Constantinople, a mural seen by Luke and Zoe. A mural with a question. Was this the answer?

Zoe stood for a while more, staring up at the mural. Then she turned and walked back to the front pew of the chapel. She reached down with one arm. When she rose again, there was a loaded crossbow in her hand. She was pointing it to where Anna was crouching.

‘Come out, Anna,’ she said quietly.

Anna didn’t move. She was still shielded by the altar and the door to the church was not so far. She could run but then …

But then what?

This has to happen .

Slowly she stood. She walked forward into the chapel and stopped in the aisle. She was at one end and Zoe at the other. And Zoe held the crossbow.

Anna asked, ‘Whose grave is it?’

‘Manuel Cantacuzenus. Some say the greatest of the Despots. And his wife Isabelle of Cyprus.’