Kathleen Kirkwood & Anita Gordon - Heart series (35 page)

Lyting released a long-held breath as the guards withdrew their weapons. Slipping a glance to Ailinn, he saw that she sat speechless beside the young emperor.

A smiling warmth spread through his chest. Thanks to Ailinn, the critical contact had been made with the Imperials. He hoped the conspiracy could quickly be unraveled and put to a rest, and they could sail homeward, at last.

»«

Ailinn relaxed in the warm, soothing waters, resting her head back upon a small pillow at the edge of the sunken pool and allowing her legs to float upward.

The pool was circular, lined with rich and pristine white marbles in a sunburst pattern
— the undulating strips of blue radiating outward from the center and outlined with gold. She hoped Lyting enjoyed such luxury. After meeting the Imperials, they had been immediately separated, she taken to women’s quarters by the empress’s ladies-in-waiting, and he . . .

Ailinn
’s brows winged downward. She knew not where he had been taken, only that he left with the empress, her officials, and an armed guard.

Ailinn released a soft breath as she thought back on the encounter in the garden. Lyting had neglected to tell her that the emperor was a child of ten, or warn her of the strict formalities of court. She could not fault him, however. He had expected to gain a private audience.

The sound of feminine voices filled her ears and beckoned her back to her present surroundings. She trailed her gaze about the room, to the elegant court ladies who inhabited the quarters and the servants who attended them, to the silken draperies, brocaded pillows, silver tables, and ivory chairs.

Such splendor, Ailinn thought languidly and closed her eyes. Who could have thought such a place existed?

»«

Lyting reclined in a sunken pool of veined jasper, as its steamy waters slowly extracted the day
’s tensions from deep in his muscles. His inmost core felt more liquid than bone. Shuttering his eyes, he rested back his head and reflected on his audience with the empress.

The first thing he had learned was that
Zoë was never unattended. That he should have foreseen. A “private” audience included the central members of her Council of Eunuchs, and her personal guard.

Thord had been summoned to help interpret for him as needed and verify what he knew of Lyting
’s encounters since entering the city.

Thord allayed Lyting
’s fears as to the loyalty of the council members and whether they might be part to the conspiracy. Eunuchs, he informed, however one might regard their personal deficiencies, were highly respected members of society, holding some of the most distinguished ranks in the Imperial service. Only the throne and the chair of the Patriarch were barred from them. Without families to support and sons to inherit or intrigue for, they dedicated themselves to their offices, holding them on merit alone.

Still, Lyting worried about a dalliance for a relative, and
Zoë agreed to dismiss all but two of her most trusted members of the council. They remained, as did two of the Varangian Guards, whose loyalty was undisputed.

“
Eunuchs,” Lyting muttered, outstretching his legs.

All in all, the audience with
Zoë went well. The empress, as expected, knew of the Varangians’ deaths. She was also aware, during the reign of her husband, Leo, that the person behind the plot was close to the throne. But the shadowy figure had disappeared without a trace after the plot was foiled, as Rurik had said.

Zoë
suspected the man served Alexander. When Leo died and Alexander seized the throne, she feared greatly for her son. During that time, she had been imprisoned in a nunnery. Those were grave days. Days she dreaded that the one behind the plot would reemerge and see her son dead.

But if the man still lived, Alexander, once crowned,
listened to no one — profligate, waste of a man that he was. Alexander even plotted to make Constantine a eunuch so he could never inherit. Blessedly, Alexander died, but many more plots were afoot.

The empress reminded Lyting with severe, unsmiling eyes that she and her son had many enemies. There were numerous factions within the city. And of course, there remained her
implacable enemy, the Patriarch, Nicholas Mysticus who still sniffed the road to find a way back to power.

Lyting sank deeper into the waters.

Over the years the man behind the palace plots had remained so quiet that Zoë, herself, thought him to be dead. Until the last year. Then, one by one, the Varangians began to die. None of the deaths had occurred on palace grounds, and the man’s proximity to the throne remained unclear. Obviously, the deaths were not the work of one person.

As the audience with
Zoë continued, Lyting informed her of the parchment from Dyrrachium. This he presented to her. She and her officials examined the missive and its contents carefully. Lyting offered Rurik’s suspicions as to why Askel the Red had ventured out of Constantinople and joined the army. He then brought forth the armband and read them the inscription.

Zoë
paled, realizing that truly the “spider” must be within the palace itself. She had hoped against hope that she need not concern herself with the elusive conspirator. This year there had been a war to oversee against the Persians, and the threat of the Bulgarians to quell after their seizure of Adrianople and their attack on Dyrrachium.

Zoë
had paused at that, her black eyes sharpening with thought. The
strategos
, or general, who led the troops to Dyrrachium had recently returned and was present within the palace complex. The council would question him.

Lyting warned
Zoë that perhaps the man had been waiting for Rurik’s return, wishing to eliminate the last Dragon, before he turned on herself and Constantine. He also spoke of Helena, the attack on himself and Ailinn in the cemetery, and his revelation that Helena had been poisoned. Zoë’s eyes had narrowed at that, as though culling through distant memories as to who had been at Helena’s bedside when she died.

Though Askel
’s arm cuff alluded to a “spider,” the assassin Lyting encountered in the cemetery spoke of a “scorpion” sitting beneath the throne. According to him, the spider served the scorpion.

Then there was the
engravings on the band, the mark on the man’s shoulder. This was the first time a definite symbol could be associated with that man and it could be established that a circle of conspirators existed, its members bearing this personal emblem.

Lyting concluded that the person they sought must be very near, indeed, and ready to strike. Once he knew that he was not Rurik, and that Rurik was still beyond his reach,
‘twas likely the “scorpion” would make his strike.

Fortunately, Rurik had narrowed his personal suspicions, and though the list was by no means conclusive, Lyting
revealed those names to the empress.

Zoë
recognized the names of men who had risen in rank over the past years — all advanced under the reign of Alexander. She hoped the list contained not only the “scorpion,” but the “spider” as well.

At that, the empress, he, Thord, and the council members discussed how they might flush out the conspirators. At their parting,
Zoë announced that they would all dine together this evening, officially, in honor of Atlison’s return. Those who fell under Rurik’s suspicions would be invited, as would several others where her own suspicions fell.

Lyting drew a wet hand over his face, bringing himself back to the present. Tonight he would dine with a murderer. Or two. He hoped Ailinn was well protected within the women
’s quarters.

A smile spread over his lips.
‘Twas probably the safest place for her, with the eunuch guards protecting her from palace enemies and enamored men like himself.

He
recalled how she looked in the thin veil of a gown at Melane’s and felt a familiar warmth in his loins.

»«

Ailinn lay naked on a linen-draped bench, while one of the servants worked precious scented oils into her skin and massaged her from head to toe.

Another servant came forth, wrapping her in soft toweling and leading her to a pillowed chair. Ailinn waited as they fetched clothing, feeling wondrously alive yet deeply relaxed, tingly from head to toe.

One noblewomen, she noted, appeared to be overseeing her. She was a handsome woman with distinct features, ebony hair and kohl-lined eyes, which lent them a hardness. She had been present on the colonnade with the empress, in search of the young emperor. Ailinn had not missed her interest in Lyting, either. As the woman’s eyes shifted to her, Ailinn detected a marked coolness in their depths as if they assessed her even now.

Ailinn stood for the servants to dress her. Again she wondered idly of the
noblewoman as she received the undergown over her head, a soft teal color and having close-fitting sleeves. Over this, they draped a stole of patterned silk — a golden yellow flecked with red. To this they added the familiar red slippers embroidered with pearls.

Sitting her before a table covered with little glass jars of pomades and cosmetics, the servants dressed her hair, catching it up and
entwining ropes of creamy pearls in its dark fires. They then affixed a veil of palest gold to the back of her head. Ailinn knew that when she stood, it would reach to the floor behind her. When they sought to darken her eyes and tint her lips she declined.

As they handed her a mirror, Ailinn caught sight of a young girl standing silently behind her, to the right side. She was a lovely child
— of Constantine’s age — elegantly dressed and holding an ivory rod inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Her eyes, though directed to Ailinn, seemed vacant. Ailinn had seen the look before. The child was blind.

As Ailinn turned to her, the child gave a slight bow.

“My lady, I am Ariana Comnena. I am to be your interpreter,” she said in precise Frankish, surprising Ailinn.

Ailinn smiled, utterly delighted.
“And I am Ailinn. You speak the tongue of Francia quite well.”

“
I speak many tongues. I serve as a court interpreter. ‘Tis a most important position,” Ariana informed, quite serious and adultlike. “People of every land fill our city, and interpreters are in great need at court.”

“
And Frankish is one of your languages?”

“
Oui
,” the girl continued without a trace of accent. A small smile followed.. “ ‘Twas one of my first tongues to master. My mother’s sister is wed to a Frankish noble, who once served as an ambassador and later chose to remain.”

“
I am pleased you will help ease my stay here, Ariana,” Ailinn confessed truthfully. “I know nothing of court formalities and have no friends in the women’s quarters.”

Ariana smiled, an elfish smile, the child appearing.

“Then we shall be friends.” She stepped forward and held forth her hand, seeking Ailinn’s.

Ailinn took hold of her slim hand and gave a gentle squeeze.

“I would like that very much, Ariana.”

The dark-haired noblewoman moved to join them, but before she could speak, Ariana presented her to Ailinn.

“This is Xenia Calaphates, lady-in-waiting to the Augusta Zoë.”

Ailinn wondered if the child recognized the woman by her scent
— a warm, pungent mixture of spices and aromatic oils. Xenia bent slightly and spoke with the child.

“
We have been summoned to dine in the Daphne Palace,” Ariana informed Ailinn. “ ‘Tis one of the seven royal residences and has a most luxurious dining chamber. But do not worry, we needn’t go outside. Many passages connect the palaces.”

Ailinn realized by the child
’s words that the women here preferred to remain indoors, shunning the fresh airs. Such a thought was unfathomable to her. She glanced about the room for her discarded clothing, which were in fact Melane’s. Neither they nor her harp were in sight.

“
Ariana, do you know what has become of my belongings?”

The child spoke to Xenia, who, in turn, indicated the servants who had taken the items. Ariana stiffened at the
mention of one name, then crossed the room, using her ivory wand to assure no furniture stood in her path. She spoke firmly to one of the servants. When the servant brought forth the clothes alone, Ariana promptly scolded her, surprising Ailinn. A moment later the servant retrieved the harp.

Ariana returned and gave over the items to Ailinn.

“You must watch out for that one. She is a thief,” Ariana counseled solemnly. “If you wish, I can have your possessions locked into my own coffer.”

Ailinn agreed to this, and Ariana called over another servant, giving her explici
t instructions. With that accomplished, the young girl led Ailinn from the suite of rooms, down one of the passages of the complex that linked the palaces and contained some of the workrooms and factories of the noblewomen. Xenia accompanied them, as did several other ladies. Ariana followed the wall and used the ivory rod to tap along it and give her her bearings.