James Heneage - The Walls of Byzantium

‘Ah, good. Well, you may know that Mistra was not taken?’

‘I had heard as much,’ said the Archon, with no trace of emotion in his voice.

‘Yes, well, I know we had an agreement, but we may have to approach things differently.’

‘Differently, lord?’ enquired the Archon.

‘Yes, differently, Pavlos. You understand what differently means?’ Irritation was creeping into Suleyman’s voice. ‘It means that situations change and we must change our plans to suit them.’

‘What has changed, lord?’ asked Mamonas evenly.

‘Well, for one thing, their citadel is impregnable,’ the Prince said shortly. ‘And for another, they have cannon.’

Now it was the Archon’s turn to laugh. ‘Cannon, my lord? Who told you that?’

‘The daughter of the Protostrator. I captured her outside the city. Her name is Anna Laskaris.’

The Archon seemed to consider this. He had to be careful. ‘They have no cannon, lord,’ he said. ‘They barely have enough arrows to shoot a dozen volleys at your army. The girl lied to you.’

Suleyman jumped to his feet, his glass shattering on the marble floor. He grabbed the Archon by his tunic. His face was red with rage. ‘Mamonas, you go too far,’ he breathed through clenched teeth. ‘If my judgement tells me we cannot take Mistra then who are you to question it?’

Zoe stepped forward. She placed her hand on the Prince’s sleeve and he turned to look at her. She was very calm. ‘No one questions your judgement, lord,’ she said quietly, looking directly into his eyes.

The Archon cleared his throat. ‘And when do you intend to take the city, lord?’

The Prince turned back. ‘We will take Mistra, Pavlos, when we are ready to take Mistra. It may be news to you, but my father’s plans for conquest do not rest on the convenience of the Mamonas family.’

The two men looked straight at each other. The silence lengthened.

Then Zoe spoke. ‘There is, however, an agreement.’

Suleyman glanced at her, a small smile parting his mouth. His teeth were very white. ‘You seem to know a great deal.’

‘I know that you are about to change our agreement and I’m interested to know in what way.’

Suleyman was too surprised to answer immediately. Then his smile broadened. He began to walk up and down.

‘Yes, well, I know you’ve given us money, Pavlos, and we will honour our side of the bargain when the time is right. Make no mistake, you will eventually rule Mistra in our father’s name, but you’ll have to wait just a little longer. This was a raid to weaken them and show them our power. If Mistra had surrendered, as you assured us it would, then we would have occupied it and given it to you. But it didn’t surrender and I was persuaded that it might be difficult to take … especially since they have cannon.’

He stopped and looked askance at the Archon, the challenge there. There was no reply and he went on: ‘Our plans have changed, Pavlos. We intend to take Constantinople first. Our ships will leave soon to form a blockade.’

He paused, letting the news sink in.

‘So we cannot afford to lose men on the hill of Mistra just now. We are grateful for the money and everything else … but we need something more. We need cannon. Can you get us cannon?’

The Archon was thinking hard. ‘Cannon, lord?’

‘Yes, cannon, Pavlos,’ the Prince continued. ‘Cannon for our ships. And another thing. We need you to stop any of the Emperor’s navy going to Constantinople until we’ve got the cannon. Can you do that for us?’

‘You ask a lot, lord,’ Pavlos Mamonas said gruffly.

Zoe had been watching the exchange with her head tilted to one side. She was beginning to like this prince. ‘Father, as the Prince knows, the Empire’s navy is here at Monemvasia and we could find reasons to keep it here. Venice makes cannon and we are friends of Venice. Would you like me to look into it? I am, after all, to visit there.’

‘Excellent!’ laughed Suleyman, looking from father to daughter. ‘I knew we could depend on you.’

He clapped his hand on the Archon’s shoulder. ‘One more thing, Pavlos. You’ll only be able to stop the fleet sailing if the Despot trusts you. Can you think of a way of getting him to trust you?’

Unconsciously, the Prince had turned to Zoe. He saw that she was watching him; there was something unreadable in her eyes.

She turned to her father. ‘I have an idea for how we might arrange that, Father,’ she said softly.

Suleyman laughed again. ‘Archon, this daughter of yours should rule the world! Now, I must get back to my army. Is there a discreet exit somewhere? And might your daughter be persuaded to show me the way to it?’

Zoe looked directly at her father. She gave the slightest of nods.

‘Of course, lord. Zoe, please show Prince Suleyman out.’

Zoe led Suleyman through corridors in the basement of the palace. She was heading for a door that led on to a small alleyway that ran by the side of the building, a door that she knew would be unguarded.

As they walked, Suleyman watched the gentle sway of her bottom beneath the rich folds of silk that accentuated its shape as she moved. He felt himself harden against the silks of his caftan. He quickened his pace.

‘So you are going to Venice?’ he asked as he drew level.

‘I am going everywhere my father does business, prince.’

‘But you have a brother. I heard he was hurt.’ He paused. ‘Such a misfortune.’

Zoe glanced at him. He seemed to be serious. She remained silent.

‘So you will go in his place. Is he like you?’

Zoe said nothing.

‘He is not like you,’ the Prince said quietly. ‘And that, I suspect, is the problem.’

She stopped and looked directly into Suleyman’s face. ‘And you also have brothers,’ she said. ‘We have that in common.’

The Prince laughed. She saw there was a bead of sweat on his forehead and that his face had new colour. He looked up and down the corridor. It was dark.

‘This is assuredly a great palace,’ he said softly. ‘What part are we in now?’

‘These are the storerooms, lord,’ she answered, adding unnecessarily, ‘where we keep food.’

‘And would they be occupied at this time?’

Zoe tilted her head and smiled as she stopped beside a door. ‘I have no idea, lord. Shall we look?’

Zoe opened the door behind her and led Suleyman into a narrow room with a low, vaulted stone ceiling and a smell of damp. In the centre of the room stood a table.

She leant against the end of the table, her arms spread to hold its edges. Her breasts felt tight against the constraints of her tunic. She opened her mouth slightly to allow her breathing to come more evenly.

Suleyman quietly closed the door and turned the key in its lock. Then he walked over to the table and began, very slowly, to unbutton the front of her tunic, his eyes never leaving hers. She did nothing to stop him.

At the fifth button, just below Zoe’s navel, Suleyman stopped and parted the tunic to reveal a white cotton chemise, also buttoned at the front. This time, using both hands, he tore it open. Only now did Suleyman’s eyes travel down and his mouth curved into a smile of untrammelled lust.

He took each breast in a hand and bent down to kiss them.

Then Suleyman dropped to his knees and began to lift the bottom of her tunic, gathering the folds as it rose to her thighs.

As his tongue made contact, Zoe let out a low moan and, taking a handful of his hair, pushed his face into her groin, thrusting her hips up to meet him. Waves of pleasure rolled up her body and her other hand came up to caress her breast.

Suleyman rose to his feet. He began to lift his caftan and, as it rose to his waist, Zoe grasped him with her hand.