Adora (21 page)

“She endangers us by her very presence here. And what of our daughter, alone in a hostile land and at the mercy of the Turks? Have you thought of Alexis, fool?”

“Your sister will be returning with her husband to Mesembria in a few months’ time. I hardly think she constitutes a danger. As to Alexis, Sultan Murad is an honorable man, and he assures me that she is safe and well at St. Anna’s.”

Helena threw up her hands in disgust. He refused to understand. Or else, the thought lingered in her mind, he was deliberately being obtuse, wanting to annoy her. John Paleaologi was a fool and always had been. He could not see that by annoying his overlord, the sultan, he practically invited Murad to attack the city. She would lose her throne because of this stupidity.

Byzantium stood alone, a faint, continuously threatened Christian light on the edge of the dark, infidel world. The rulers of Europe gave lip service to protecting Byzantium. This was due to squabbling over religion.

In fact, in the year 1203, the Fourth Crusade, originally dispatched to retake Jerusalem from the Saracen Muslims, diverted instead to Constantinople. This diversion was engineered by the Venetians and by their vengeful doge, Enrico Dandolo, who had been blinded thirty years earlier while being held hostage in Constantinople by the Greeks.

He had been allowed the freedom of the city, having given his word that he would not try to escape.

Escape was the furthest thing from Dandolo’s mind. The son of a noble merchant family, he was far more interested in wooing to Venice the foreign trading houses that were the strength of the Byzantine Empire.

Too, Dandolo had developed an unhealthy interest in Constantinople’s defenses. When his two breaches of conduct were discovered, he was punished by having his too-inquisitive eyes exposed to a concave mirror reflecting the sun. Blind, he was returned to Venice, where he spent years overcoming his handicap and dreaming of revenge. He was ultimately elected to the highest office in Venice, a position which offered him his opportunity for vengeance.

Besides his personal motives, the elderly doge wanted the destruction of Constantinople for the economic advantages that destruction would afford his own city.

The excuse for this betrayal of a Christian city by fellow Christians was the restoration of a deposed emperor. He was Alexius IV, though the Crusader lords knew he was already dead. He had been strangled by Alexius V, who then fled the city in the face of the oncoming European army, leaving his people to their terrible fate. Constantinople found itself taken in 1204 and mercilessly pillaged by soldiers, clerics, and nobles. No infidel city ever suffered at the hands of Christian invaders as did Constantinople, the capital city of Eastern Christianity.

What was not destroyed by fire or vandalism was carted off. Gold, silver, jewels, plate, silks, furs, statuary, and people—whatever held value, and could move or be moved. The city had never recovered, and Helena was terrified lest the next invasion be the last.

Her fears were increased considerably when Sultan Murad and a small but formidable army appeared outside the city’s walls.

“In God’s name give Thea back to the sultan,” Helena begged her husband.

“Do you think Murad will go away if I do?” mocked John Paleaologi. “Christos, Helena, do not be a bigger fool than you already are! Orkhan’s last words to his sons were to take Constantinople. He has not come for Theadora, my dear, but for my city. I shall not, however, let him have it.”

Helena did not know what to do, or even where she might turn. Her sister and her new bridegroom were the darlings of the city. The story of Thea’s escape was even being sung by the street minstrels.

Suddenly, it appeared that her prayers would be answered.

Into Helena’s presence came a tall, soft-looking man who quietly introduced himself. “I am Ali Yahya, Majesty, chief of the sultan’s household. I wish to see Princess Theadora and hope that you may arrange it.”

“My sister will not see you, Ali Yahya. She has recently been remarried to the lord of Mesembria. She honeymoons even now in a dear little villa on the sea.”

“What a pity, madame.”

Helena could not resist. “Does the sultan really want my sister in his harem?”

“He wishes the princess back with her family, and those who love her,” came the evasive reply.

Helena’s blue eyes narrowed. “Possibly,” she said, “it could be arranged.
But
it would have to be done my way.”

“And what way is that, Majesty?”

“With my father and brother no longer concerned with a secular life, I am head of the Cantacuzene family. In this capacity I am responsible for the fate of the members of this family. I will sell my sister to Sultan Murad for ten thousand gold Venetian ducats and one hundred of the finest Eastern pearls. The pearls, must be between one and two centimeters in size. My price is firm. I will not haggle.”

“And what of Her Highness’s new husband, Majesty? Our laws forbid taking the wife of a living man.”

“For that price, Ali Yahya, I will see that my sister is quickly widowed. Her new husband has offended me. He is an insolent man who lacks respect for the empire.”

What Helena did not say was that Alexander of Mesembria had insulted her unforgiveably by refusing to lie with her when she had offered herself to him. No man had ever refused Helena. Usually they were greatly overcome by the honor. Alexander, however, had gazed down on Helena from his great height and said coldly, “I choose my own whores, madame. They do not choose me.” Then he had walked away.

The eunuch suspected something of this sort and pitied both Theadora and her husband. Then he shrugged. It was not his place to feel anything. His first obligation was to his master, Sultan Murad, and his master had sent him for Theadora.
Under these new circumstances, however, Ali Yahya was not sure if Murad would want her back. He would have to play for time until he could ascertain the sultan’s will.

“You will, of course, provide us with proper legal papers to verify such a sale,” he said smoothly.

“Naturally,” replied Helena calmly, “and I will make it possible for you to transport her quickly from the city before my husband discovers her gone.”

“Although I am empowered by the sultan to make whatever arrangements are necessary to assure the princess’s return, this is an unusual situation, majesty. I must speak with my master.”

Helena nodded. “I will give you two days, Ali Yahya. Come to me at this same hour. Remind your master that the longer he delays his decision, the longer the object of his lust lies in the arms of another man.” She laughed cruelly. “My sister’s new husband is quite handsome. The silly women of my court compare him to a Greek god.”

The eunuch withdrew from the empress’s private chamber. Two days later he returned and was again received.

“Well?” she demanded impatiently.

He reached into his robes and drew out two velvet bags. He opened the first and spilled some of its contents into a flat dish. Helena’s blue eyes widened with greedy delight at the perfectly sized and matched pearls. The other bag was opened to reveal a bar of gold.

“Have it weighed, Majesty. You will find it ten thousand ducats’ worth.” To his vast amusement, she went directly to a cabinet and drew out a scale. She weighed the gold.

“A trifle over,” she remarked knowledgeably. “The sultan is more than fair.” Returning the scale to the cabinet she drew out an unrolled parchment and handed it to Ali Yahya. “These papers give your master, the sultan, complete custody and legal ownership of a female slave known as Theadora of Mesembria. She and her bridegroom are still at their villa near
the city. However, you cannot get her there without placing open, public suspicion on your master which I am sure he does not wish. The execution of my plan will take time. To act hastily would mean to risk questions, which your master certainly does not want. No, it is better if my sister is widowed in Mesembria. You see, no one there would think to harm Alexander. They all love him. For that very reason his death will look perfectly natural.

“When he does die, in a few months, I will beg my poor sister to come home. I will house her royally at the Boucolean Palace, which happens to be directly adjacent to the imperial yacht basin. You and I will arrange a time, and I will see that her wine is drugged on the appointed day. You and your men will then remove her through a secret passage which opens out by the harbor. The guards will be bribed. They will let you through without question.”

Ali Yahya bowed, filled with a grudging admiration for the empress. She was a wicked woman, but this knowledge allowed him to complete his mission. There would be no blood on
his
hands. “What drug will you use to put her to sleep?” he asked.

She reached once more into the cabinet and, drawing out a small vial, handed it to him. Uncorking it, he sniffed. Satisfied, he handed it back to her. “I do not have to tell you what will happen to you if you attempt to trick me, or if you harm the princess,” he said quietly.

She smiled nastily. “I will not harm her. Why? I will gain far more pleasure in the weeks ahead by knowing that she is a slave. She must obey her lord and master, or be punished. If she obeys, she suffers—for I believe she is a cold woman. But if she refuses her lord and master she will be beaten. I do not know which gives me more pleasure, the thought of Thea naked and enduring the sultan’s vigorous attentions, or Thea being whipped.”

“Why do you hate her so?” Ali Yahya was unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

For a moment Helena was silent. Then she said, “I am the elder, but my parents always preferred Thea. They never said so but I knew. When my mother died I nursed her, and what do you think her last words were? I will tell you, Ali Yahya! Her very last words to me were, ‘Theadora, my best loved! Now I will never see you again.’ No word for me! I loved her too! It was always Thea!

“Then there was my father, always talking about her intelligence, and how she should have been his heir. Such drivel! What has she won with her wonderful brain? Nothing! Nothing! Now she endangers
my
city, and my husband defends her every move, and grows soft-eyed at the mere mention of her name. I want her out of my life. Now! Forever!”

“You have gained your heart’s desire, Majesty. Within a few short months your sister will be back across the Marmara and well on her way to Bursa.” The eunuch rose and bowed. “How will I know the correct dock in the imperial yacht basin?”

“There is a wharf decorated with statues of lions and other animals in the Boucoleon Harbor. Have your galley wait there on the date we agree upon. The passageway exits just a few feet from that wharf.” She reached into her robes and drew out a red silk pendant with a two-headed imperial eagle embroidered on it. “Have your galley fly this from its mast and no one will challenge you coming or going.”

For the rest of the day Helena could barely contain her excitement. At last she would be rid of Thea. Never again would she have to fear her sister’s threat of so long ago…the threat of her returning to the sultan’s side, to snatch the city from Helena! Thea would finally be powerless! A slave! Why, when Sultan Murad tired of her, as he inevitably would, he might even sell her farther east! Helena laughed with joy. Her vengeance would be complete.

That night the empress sent for a man who was one of Byzantium’s most respected physicians. Julian Tzimisces occasionally enjoyed Helena’s favors. Tonight she awaited him
in a loose robe of palest turquoise-blue gauze through which her lush body gleamed like mother-of-pearl. Her nipples were painted vermillion, and they were provocatively visible through the silk. By her side was a beautiful little girl who, like Helena, was a blue-eyed blonde. The child was garbed as the empress was, even to having the tiny buds of her unformed breasts painted vermillion. Tzimisces’ particular perversion was children.

Helena smiled a feline smile and said bluntly, “I need a very special poison, dear friend. It must kill quickly, harm only its intended victim, and leave no trace.”

“You ask a lot, Majesty.”

Again Helena smiled. “Do you like my little Julia?” she asked him. “She is a Georgian, and just ten. Such a sweet little girl,” and the empress kissed the child on her rosebud mouth.

Julian Tzimisces shifted nervously, his eyes moving rapidly from the child’s unformed body to the empress’s large, gleaming red nipples. Helena lay back, drawing the child with her, and slowly caressed the little slave’s body.

“I have something new from Italy,” said Julian Tzimisces a trifle breathlessly. “Is the victim male or female?” He was beginning to perspire beneath his robes, and he felt himself growing harder with each minute.

“Male.”

“It can be put in his bath water.”

“No! He may bathe with his wife, and I do not wish her harmed. In fact, it is vital that she
not
be harmed.”

“Then it can be put in his shaving water. It will take several days for the poison to be absorbed through the skin. There will be no signs of illness, nothing to raise suspicion. When the poison has been absorbed, the man will simply drop dead. Will that be satisfactory?”

“Yes, Julian, that will be very satisfactory.”

The physician could not take his eyes from the two females on the couch. He was in a terrible quandary for he wanted them both—the child first, then the woman. The empress laughed. She knew his tastes.

“You have been very cooperative, old friend, and you shall be rewarded. You may have my sweet Julia. But you must not spend, Julian! That joy you must save for me.”

The physician tore his robe open and flung himself on the child who, although she knew what to expect, nevertheless screamed in agony as the man drove himself into her. The screams continued for several moments, finally fading into pitiful little moans.

Beside them Helena crouched on her heels, her eyes shining, her lips wet and slack. “Yes, Julian! Yes! Yes! Hurt her! Hurt her!”

The child had fainted now, and Tzimisces’s passion was reaching its peak. Panting, Helena ripped her own robe off and, lying back, spread her legs wide. Shoving the child away, the man covered the eager woman’s body with his own. Together they writhed in an almost violent mortal combat until suddenly, with a shriek, the empress was spent. Her partner quickly followed.