The Walls of Byzantium (9 page)

What those duties entailed had been revealed to her by her mother over the weeks following the dreadful announcement. And although she’d known most of it, having spent much of her youth in the company of her brother’s friends, it still came as a shock that she was now so close to realising it.

It was two years since her encounter with Suleyman and the time had been spent in a mood of wild exhilaration at having
escaped death so closely. She’d even thrown herself into her lessons with an enthusiasm that had unnerved the monks.

And now this. In a week’s time she was to be married to Damian Mamonas, a boy a year her senior whom she’d never met and had heard only bad things about. Even now, her father would be riding by his side, accompanying him to Mistra.

To take her away.

Forever
.

What made it worse was that it was one of those spring days in Mistra when she felt that she lived in the most glorious place on God’s earth. The sky was an unblemished blue and the midmorning sun shone down upon the hill and its people as if it was their own, lending all the individual colours of house, square and garden a brightness that Anna hoped would stay in her memory forever.

My God, I love this place
.

Even the people seemed intoxicated by the day. Since the siege, they’d seen Anna as something of a patron saint to the city, which embarrassed her and the Metropolitan of St Demetrius Cathedral in equal degree. And if half of them were sad to lose their icon, the other half were filled with pride that her illustrious match would make their despotate safer. At any rate, not one of them wanted to miss the entry into their city of the Mamonas heir and they chattered excitedly to one another as they gathered flowers to shower upon the bridegroom.

Anna had already made her peace with St Demetrius that morning. Before first light, when the streets were deserted, she’d walked down to the cathedral and sat alone in the front pew to watch the bright frescoes of the Blessed Family and saints reveal themselves in the tiptoed light of the rising sun. Every child of Mistra knew the story of St Demetrius, how he’d
been cast into a dungeon in Thessaloniki by the Romans and speared to death for refusing to abjure his faith. She’d never much liked the saint but she found herself beseeching him to grant the same protection to her as he did to her city.

Now she sat with her brother, awaiting her future husband and wondering what she should say to him when they first met.

Alexis looked up. ‘Sister, you look beautiful,’ he said, taking Anna’s hand in his.

Indeed she did. Anna was dressed in a long red dress of finest Cypriot silk damask, tight-fitted at the bosom, with a deep neckline fastened at the front with cross-laces of gold thread. The long, triangular sleeves were decorated at the edges with an elaborate floral design and the effect of the red and gold against her fair skin was dramatic. On her head was a simple diadem of cream silk cord and her luxuriant hair had been braided into a single strand at the back, with two further plaits framing her face. From her ears hung crescent-shaped earrings of silver decorated with the monogram of the Palaiologoi, a gift to her from the Despoena.

She was lovelier than her brother had ever seen her and now, as he looked into those green, green eyes, he realised how much he was going to miss her.

‘You look beautiful,’ he said again, this time in a whisper, and squeezed her hand.

Anna looked into his clear, kind eyes and felt herself on the edge of tears. She bit her lip.

Then, mercifully, there was distraction.

Commotion came from the town below. The two of them moved to look over the balcony and saw people flocking through the streets to the city gate where the flag of the Palaiologoi
flew. A ragged cheer went up from the crowd but they could see little beyond the houses around them. Anna’s heart quickened as she realised that the man whom she was to marry was fast approaching the house.

Her mother appeared at the door to the balcony.

Maria Laskaris was a woman of legendary poise but the events of the past weeks had tested her to the limits. Her daughter was so young – but Maria herself had been far younger when she’d married and hadn’t she been happy? And she knew about duty. When she and Simon Laskaris had wed, it was to seal a peace agreement between her father, a powerful Norman lord with extensive lands in the north, and the then Despot Manuel. Now her dead father’s lands were part of the despotate.

She looked at her daughter and marvelled again at what had happened to her over the past two years. She had grown up, not just in body, but in mind as well. She was still impulsive and stubborn, but there was also a wisdom that her mother found reassuring given what might lie ahead. She’d not heard good things about her future son-in-law.

‘Come, Anna,’ she said. ‘We’d better go down to the courtyard to wait for them.’

She took her daughter’s arm and led her through the triclinium, down the stone steps and into the large courtyard with its imposing gateway on to the square. A tall cedar stood in the middle.

Outside the gate, they could hear the procession drawing nearer, the cheers and laughter of the crowd giving way to the sound of hoof on stone. And then Simon Laskaris was there, riding under the arch in his rich tunic and tall hat, with an uncertain smile pinned to his face.

Beside him rode Damian Mamonas, whose own face was set
fast in a smile of no warmth and whose dark eyes immediately sought Anna out as they accustomed themselves to the shade of the cedar tree. Whether what he saw pleased him, Anna couldn’t tell, for his expression remained fixed. She felt sick.

He looked less than impressive. While handsome, he had a livid scar down one cheek and a pallor that suggested long hours indoors. His long black hair, which fell almost to his waist, seemed too heavy for his head and he rode awkwardly.

Damian dismounted in front of her and stumbled, waving away the arm of a servant. He fixed his gaze on Anna and she smiled back. Then he walked towards her, his limp causing one side of his body to dip low with every step. Anna looked hard into his face and still she smiled. She extended a hand.

‘My lord, you are most welcome.’

Damian did not reply. He merely took her hand and bowed to kiss it. His lips were cold.

There was an awkward silence in which Anna looked at her father and then her brother who was now by his side. Alexis gave the merest hint of a shrug.

Then her father said: ‘Anna, Damian has had a long ride. Why don’t you take him inside where we can sit?’

Damian turned to him. ‘Sir, the ride was not hard. I ride further than that daily. I’m just hot.’

The Protostrator gestured towards the stone steps leading up to the door to the house. ‘Of course, of course. Please do me the honour of entering my house.’

But Damian didn’t move. He was staring at the steep steps.

Anna stepped forward. ‘Sir, I fear the heat is affecting me also. Would you help me in climbing these steps?’

Then she took his arm and began, slowly, to mount the steps.

Inside the triclinium, laid out on a long table that ran the length of the room, was a spread of cold game birds, fish, cheeses, fruit and sweetmeats all displayed on plate of gold and silver. At intervals stood jugs of cool Cypriot wine surrounded by bunches of grapes and twisted vines. Servants, dressed in the Laskaris livery, stood against the walls.

Damian was shown to his chair by Anna, who then sat down beside him. She poured him wine.

‘Was your ride pleasant, lord?’ she ventured.

But Damian was looking around him curiously, searching the faces of the guests who had started to arrive. ‘I don’t see the Despot.’

Anna wondered what she should say. It would be inconceivable for the royal couple to attend. Surely Damian must know this?

She decided to lie. ‘I believe the Despoena is unwell, sir.’

It was not quite a lie. Bartolomea had confessed to Anna the day previously that her courses that month were severe. Damian shrugged. He drank some wine and leant forward to fork a quail on to his plate. As he ate, he nodded absently at arriving guests who bowed to him as they came into the room.

‘How many rooms does this house have?’ he asked at last.

Anna was taken aback. She’d never counted them. ‘I don’t know. Twenty?’

Damian considered this, looking through the large windows either side of the room at the two other wings of the house. ‘I think not,’ he said. Then he added, ‘You will find our palace very spacious, and cool inside.’ He drew a cloth from his sleeve and began to mop his brow.

Anna had never met anyone so rude. Was this the man with whom she was to spend the rest of her life?

‘I look forward to counting its rooms,’ she said. ‘I’ll bring my abacus.’

Damian looked up quickly. A small spot of colour had appeared in each cheek. But Anna had turned away.

There was laughter in the room and she could see Alexis’s fair head rising and falling as he made his way towards them, stopping to greet friends. His charm washed before him like water over pebbles.

‘Sister, will you introduce me?’ Alexis was standing over them, his hand extended and a smile of untinctured friendship on his face.

Damian didn’t get up. He only slowly put out his hand and said, ‘I hear you’ve met the Prince Suleyman.’

Alexis grinned. He took the seat next to Anna. ‘Yes, out on the plain. He seemed quite taken by Anna. Perhaps you should watch him.’ He laughed, unaware of the cold look that Damian was giving him. and added, ‘I hear you have some extraordinary horses at your stud. Now that you’re to be married to Anna, I wondered …’

But Alexis didn’t finish his sentence because the look that Damian was giving him was full of such venom that even he couldn’t fail to notice it. What on earth had he said wrong?

But Anna had realised. ‘Alexis, Damian has a twin sister famed for her beauty and as yet unmatched. I’m surprised you’ve not yet found room for her in the conversation.’

Alexis looked back at Damian. He seemed to remember something and reddened. ‘I shall be honoured to meet her,’ he said quietly. ‘I hope the four of us will be friends.’

If the prospect of this friendship seemed attractive to Damian, he hid it well. He merely beckoned to a servant for more wine. Then he yawned. ‘I find myself more tired than I thought.
Perhaps I might be found one of your … twenty … rooms in which to rest for a bit before the inevitable speeches?’

With some effort Anna controlled herself. ‘Of course.’

As Damian limped away behind a servant, brother and sister turned to look at each other.

‘Perhaps it’s just tiredness,’ said Alexis lamely. ‘I get like that sometimes.’

‘You? Never.’ Anna was staring at the back of the man she was to marry. ‘He’s just unpleasant. How can I live with
that?
’

‘I’m only fifty miles away,’ Alexis said softly. ‘I can be there whenever you need me.’

Anna looked into those good, brave eyes, eyes that wanted so badly to see equal good in the world. How did she deserve such a brother? She leant forward to whisper in his ear: ‘It doesn’t matter what he’s like. With you in my life, I can always know love.’

The following morning was as bright as its predecessor and a gentle breeze stroked Anna’s hair as she rode through the gates of Mistra on the first part of her journey to her new home.

The cheers of the crowds were still ringing in her ears as she steered the pretty palfrey that Damian had presented her with that morning down the hill towards the plain. If truth be told, she’d have preferred to ride her own horse but she could hardly refuse such a gift, and anyway the Mamonas horses were famous throughout Christendom. She patted the speckled roan on its neck and it whinnied in reply.

By her side rode Damian, looking bored and hungover from the revels of the previous night; Simon Laskaris had not stinted on either the quality or quantity of his wine. Damian had shown
himself even less congenial drunk than when sober. This morning, he had yet to speak.

Anna refused to be affected by his mood, having resolved, on waking, to make the best of her situation. She’d also decided not to make all of the conversational running, having exhausted so many avenues the evening before.

Instead she talked to Alexis, who rode at her other side, and considered the countryside around her, so green and buxom in these first weeks of spring. The Vale of Sparta had recovered quickly from the ravages visited on it by the Turks and bounty was everywhere. New fields of wheat and corn were beginning their rise into the gold of harvest and fat oxen pulled blades through the rich soil.

Soon they met a caravan making its way towards Mistra and Anna remembered that the Spring Fair was to take place later in the week in the open ground before the city. The mules appeared to be laden with small jars of different coloured ointments packed into crates that swayed with the movement of the beasts. The last was ridden by a cheerful fat man who waved at their passing. Anna guessed him to be quack who would proclaim the miracles of his virility potions from a box while the wives of Mistra giggled like virgins. She’d enjoyed the spectacle before.