The Towers of Samarcand (53 page)

Fiorenza spoke again. ‘I’ve been at Sklavia. I came back when I heard that Tamerlane had left. But it seems he’s taken my husband with him.’ She paused. ‘Luke has told me much about you.’

Anna sat up in the bed, studying the woman. ‘As I of you. You’ve been kind to him. Do you know where he’s gone?’

Fiorenza produced a scroll. ‘I found this in his room.’

It was addressed to Anna. She took the scroll and opened it. Inside was a ring and a message: ‘Catch up with Plethon and give this to him but avoid Zoe at all costs. I will join you as soon as I can. I love you.’

She reread the message, certain that someone else had done the same. She looked up to find her hostess guileless and smiling, two dimples bracketing her perfect mouth. She wondered again where Luke had gone. Had he had a message from Shulen? Probably.

Fiorenza turned to her son. ‘Giovanni.’ The boy lifted his head and Anna’s breath left her. A wave of panic surged up her body and she put a hand out to steady herself on the bed. She had to stop herself from crying out.

Luke
.

The boy bowed from the waist and straightened up. He smiled. He was Luke. Luke with dimples. There was no doubt. If it wasn’t obvious in his size, his hair, his chin, then it shone from his blue, blue eyes.

You are Luke’s son
.

She was aware that she was staring at the boy but couldn’t wrench her eyes away. It was as if Luke was reborn, refashioned in the skin of a child. She wanted to touch him.

‘I see you are taken with my son.’

Anna forced herself to look up at Fiorenza.

She knows I know
.

Small spots of colour had emerged high in the Princess of Trebizond’s cheeks. The dimples had disappeared and there was calculation in her eyes. ‘It is possible he reminds you of another?’

Anna felt the blood rush to her face. She knew that she was trembling and cursed the hands that betrayed it. She breathed in. ‘I’m sorry.’ She put out her hand. ‘Giovanni.’

The boy bowed again, still smiling, and took her hand. Fiorenza said: ‘I mean to go to my husband. You?’

Anna nodded. ‘I’ll go to Plethon. And your son?’

Fiorenza paused for a moment. Then she said: ‘He will return to Sklavia. There are horses waiting.’

*

The stench of Smyrna was more than even Tamerlane could stand. The smell of rotting corpses, lifted by fire and autumn
wind, penetrated every corner of the citadel so that half of his court performed their duties masked. Tamerlane soon left the city for Constantinople. He travelled by elephant with just Zoe and a servant in his howdah and Pir Mohammed, Sigismund, Manuel and Plethon in the howdah behind. Marchese Longo and the signore rode at the head of a regiment of gautchin that brought up the rear. The army was left to rest in Smyrna and would follow later.

The road had been Byzantine, therefore wide and level, and the ride was comfortable. The summer had extended its reach into autumn and a hot sun turned leaves into fire before they fell from the poplars that lined the road. Beyond the trees were villages without people and fields without livestock. Humanity had disappeared with its food. It was if the last judgement had come and gone without anyone caring to tell the Mongol army. Only the kourtchi, riding ahead, had seen the road into Bursa clogged with people desperate to seek refuge behind the city’s walls.

So none saw the passing of this strange calvacade. None saw the two elephants, their mahouts sitting astride painted faces whose steady grins rocked between giant tusks; or the jornufa or ostrich or two donkeys wearing the tall white hats of the janissary corps. None saw the four bullocks that followed, pulling a wagon with a cage upon it in which a clown sat in misery: Bayezid; Yildirim; Sultan of the Ottomans, a man hardly visible through the filth on his bars.

News came from Ankara. Mohammed Sultan would meet his grandfather somewhere along the road to Bursa. For Zoe, this was the first piece of bad news for some time; she’d hoped Mohammed Sultan would be too ill to travel and didn’t want his words of reason anywhere near her lover’s ear.

Tamerlane had started the journey in the best of spirits. Zoe had used every skill in her repertoire to bring him to grunting ecstasy in the bed of the Grand Master of the Hospitallers. Now he lay against the cushions of the howdah while she read to him, watching the of the young mahout as it swung from side to side with the rhythm of the beast. The music was sweet and the air sweeter than anything he’d breathed in a week. Tamerlane was happy.

*

Having sent Giovanni to Sklavia, Fiorenza joined the party as it left Manisa. She rode alongside her husband as it passed through Akhisar, barked at by dogs and stared at by cats but otherwise unnoticed. On the third evening, they arrived at the bridge at Sultancayir, just short of the city of Karasi, capital of the beylik of that name, the first neighbour to be annexed by the Ottomans sixty years past. They were two hundred miles from Constantinople. There was a Byzantine castle on a hill there, abandoned by its Turkish sipahi owner, where Tamerlane’s guests would be housed for the night. Tamerlane would pitch his tent at the bottom.

*

Much later, one guest awoke to receive a summons to meet Tamerlane in his tent, alone. Matthew dressed quickly, woke Nikolas to tell him where he was going, and tiptoed from the room. He assumed the summons had something to do with Luke. In the castle stable, he found his horse, saddled it and led it across the sleeping courtyard, through the gate and on to the path outside. He mounted and rode down the hill. He had no difficulty in recognizing Tamerlane’s ger. It was the largest and had the flag of the Celestial Conjunction outside, just visible in the moonlight. Two gautchin stood guard on either side of its
entrance. They recognised Matthew and lifted the flap for him to enter.

Inside it was dim and very warm and the air smelt of wine. Tamerlane’s giant bed, with braziers at each corner, stood in the centre. Veil upon veil of diaphanous material had been ripped from its frame and a copper bath was up-ended at its foot. The remains of a meal were scattered across the carpet. At first Matthew thought that he was alone in the tent. Except for the crackle of fire in the stove, it was entirely quiet. Then he saw a shape move on the bed and his heart missed a beat.

Zoe
.

He turned to go.

‘It’s all right. He’s on the floor, too drunk to know anything. I’ve seen it before.’The words were muffled, as if spoken from below a pillow or from broken lips. It sounded like the voice of one in pain. Something was wrong.

‘Are you hurt?’ he whispered.

She laughed. There was the brush of fur on fur as she moved. ‘Yes, I’m hurt.’

Matthew strained to see. ‘Tamerlane?’

He heard slow, careful movement from one finding movement painful. ‘I am split and torn and bruised in places I didn’t think it possible to hurt.’ She paused. ‘He is an animal.’

Matthew heard a snore from the far side of the ger, then a grunt, like some beast stirring in its bestial dream. He moved slowly over to the bed. She was lying on a sheet beneath furs and her back was to him. She was probably naked. He said: ‘He called for me.’

Zoe sighed. ‘He didn’t call for you, I did. I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Zoe, his guards are outside.’

‘No they’re not. I told them to go as soon as you arrived. They’re getting drunk somewhere.’

Matthew glanced at the tent entrance. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

‘About Chios,’ she said. Her palm patted the bed behind her. ‘Sit. We can talk and then you can go.’

Matthew sat.

Zoe turned her head slightly to him. She paused before speaking. ‘Temur tells me that Luke saved Mohammed Sultan’s life at Ankara. He says they love each other as brothers now. Which is why Luke stayed there instead of coming here.’

Matthew frowned. ‘Luke stayed at Ankara because he was too sick to travel.’

‘Are you sure? I think Luke has deserted you. He has new friends now.’

Matthew was shaking his head. ‘Luke is a Varangian.’

‘He’s also ambitious. Just look at what he’s learnt over the past two years. He’s left the rest of you behind.’

Matthew remained silent. He wanted to leave.

‘You know that he has Plethon’s trust,’ went on Zoe, ‘particularly in the matter of the treasure. What you don’t know is how he’s abused that trust. We went into Constantinople, he and I, before Nicopolis, to look for it. He wanted to take it for himself.’ She paused and her head turned a little further. ‘Just like his grandfather.’

Matthew rose. He’d never believed the story that Luke’s grandfather had stolen the treasure. He wouldn’t believe it now.

‘Sit down, Matthew,’ Zoe said quietly. ‘I haven’t finished.’

He took a deep breath. ‘I don’t want to hear any more.’

He heard the rustle of sheets as Zoe turned her body. He didn’t look round.

‘I have a proposition for you, Matthew,’ she said. ‘Help me rule Chios. I’ll need someone to keep all those signori in order, someone strong. You can bring the other two as well. You’ll all be rich.’

Matthew exhaled slowly. His mind was churning. ‘And Luke?’

‘Luke has made other plans. And they don’t include you.’

Matthew said: ‘Temur won’t honour your agreement any more than he has any other. He’ll tire of you, Zoe. He might kill you.’

She laughed then. ‘I’m sure he might. But I will poison him before that happens. I have good poison from Venice. Look, I have it here. I carry it always.’

Zoe tossed a narrow belt on to the floor. Matthew stooped to pick it up. It had two lumps in the fabric. Two doses of poison; two just to be sure. Matthew stared at it. He wanted to be as far away from this tent as it was possible to be. He had to get out into the air, away from her musk, away from her madness. Away from the monster asleep on the floor. He made to go.

‘You’ll regret it.’ Her voice was calm.

He walked to the door of the tent.

‘Did you know that he means to take Constantinople?’ she asked. ‘How big will the guard he takes inside the city be, do you think? Just his regiment of gautchin? What will he do to the poor citizens when he knows that Manuel ferried Suleyman’s army to safety?’ Her voice stayed low. ‘And what do you think he’ll do to Anna when I tell him that she tried to bring a crusade to fight him?’ She paused. ‘I wouldn’t leave, if I were you.’

But Matthew suddenly needed more than air. He pulled aside the tent-flap and stepped into the night.

Outside the tent were four soldiers of the gautchin, their swords drawn.

*

A mile to the south, Anna was riding towards the bridge at Sultancayir, with her paizi as apparent as she could make it in the moonlight and a ring in her pocket. In her mind was only one thought, one question.

How can he not be Luke’s son?

And how could Marchese Longo not see it? Or perhaps he did. Why did Luke do it?

Why did you betray me?

The first campfires of the gautchin appeared on either side of the road and a soldier rose from the sleeping figures. She raised her veil and showed him the paizi and went through. Soon she was climbing the path to the castle. At the top, she dismounted and led her horse under the gate. A Mongol appeared and she showed the paizi. ‘The Lord Plethon,’ she said.

The servant didn’t understand. She managed to convey a toga and length of beard and the man nodded. He led her up some steps and along a passage to a door. He left her.

She pushed the door half open. ‘Plethon?’ She hoped she sounded less frightened than she was.

Plethon was in bed, reading. ‘Come in. Don’t worry, Tamerlane is in his tent at the bottom of the hill, with Zoe.’

Anna walked over to the bed and sat down. ‘You were awake.’

Plethon put down the book and lifted himself against the pillows. The night was cool and he pulled the blanket up with him. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking. And you?’

Anna nodded.

‘Of Luke?’

Anna didn’t answer. She looked down at her hands, which, she saw, were joined as if in prayer.

‘Of a tall boy who looks like Luke?’

Anna looked up. The philosopher’s face was quite clear in the moonlight. He was not smiling.

‘So it’s true?’ she whispered.

‘You know it’s true,’ said Plethon. ‘You can see it. The question is: why?’

‘And do you have the answer?’

He studied her hands, clenched in hope that he might. He shook his head. ‘No. Only two people have that.’ He looked up at her. ‘Where is Luke?’

Anna sighed. She closed her eyes and rocked back on the bed. ‘He left me at Chios but didn’t say where he’d gone. Probably to Shulen. He gave me this to give to you.’

She took the ring from her pocket and gave it to Plethon. He studied it closely. He said: ‘I have been visited by Maria tonight. She is Zoe’s handmaiden. She will act as go-between. She told me that she’d seen Zoe meet with someone this evening, someone she recognised. Fiorenza.’

Anna frowned. ‘Why would Zoe meet with Fiorenza?’

Plethon shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But she told me something about Fiorenza. She was the one who fled Trebizond with the Venetian who stole the alum trade from the Genoese.’

Something connected in Anna’s brain.

Of course. Fiorenza was Maria’s cousin in Trebizond. But why meet Zoe?

‘Why is this important, Plethon?’

‘Because someone on Chios has been giving Venice information. Could it have been Fiorenza? Has she been betraying her husband to her old Venetian lover?’

The philosopher was shaking his head, lost in the riddle. Anna rose. She was interested in a different betrayal and wanted very much to talk to Fiorenza. ‘Where does she sleep?’ she asked, moving to the door.

Plethon looked up. ‘You may not hear what you want to hear.’

She turned. ‘I want the truth, Plethon.’

*

Not long afterwards, in a room at the other end of the castle, Fiorenza heard a soft knock on her bedroom door. She was lying on a bed wet with her tears. Soldiers of the gautchin had just entered and arrested her husband. She got up from the bed, walked over to the door and opened it. Anna was carrying a candle and its light made Fiorenza’s cheeks shine like paint. Her golden hair was disordered, her eyes red, but her back was straight. She was, after all, a princess from Trebizond.