Enchantress Mine (22 page)

“What?”
Nara screeched. “What is this you say? Dagda! Dagda, come quickly!” She reached out with a strong hand yanking the boy into the center of the room where he suddenly found himself facing a giant with shoulder-length white hair. The boy quailed with fright.

“Don’t be afraid, lad,” said Dagda, his deep kindly voice belying his fierce appearance. “What is the matter, and who are you?”

“I am Paul. I belong to Bellisarius, the great actor. I have just come from my master’s apartments. He and Prince Basil are lying upon the floor. Both are quite dead, sir.”

“Lord have mercy upon us all!” cried Nara, only to be silenced by a look from Dagda.

“You are quite certain that they are dead, lad?” Dagda gently questioned the boy.

“Yes, my lord. I took my mirror and held it to their nostrils. There was no fog upon the glass. It was my master’s bath time. I only entered the room to remind him, for if the water was not the proper temperature he would beat me. I was not spying upon them!” The boy now began to tremble in fear as he realized how very serious a matter this really was.

“Why did you come here, lad?” said Dagda.

“Is not this the apartment of Prince Basil and his wife, sir? It is Prince Basil who lies dead with my master. Where else would I have gone?”

“Woman!” Dagda pierced Nara with a cold look. “Keep your wits about you and your mouth shut until I see this tragedy.”

Nara nodded, very frightened.

Bidding the boy remain where he stood by Nara, the Irishman ran back through the corridors to Bellisarius’ apartments. Looking quickly about to be certain he wasn’t observed, he entered. Dagda knew the rumors of the prince’s relationship with the actor. He also knew that it had ended with Basil’s marriage to Mairin. Now as he saw the two men clasped in their obscene and deathly embrace, his lip curled scornfully.

Then he began to assess the situation more clearly. It became important that the bodies be moved so that the scandal not hurt Mairin. Pulling Bellisarius off the prince, he wrinkled his nose in distaste as the actor’s cloying perfume rose to assail him. He moved Basil’s body over to the red-and-gold couch and laid it back amid the pillows. It was the best he could do. At least the two men weren’t entwined in that perversion of an embrace any longer. With a sigh he departed the room, hurrying through the palace corridors to the rooms of the court physician, Demetrios.

Over the many months he had lived in Constantinople Dagda had made friends with Demetrios. The two played at chess in the evenings. Now Dagda needed that friendship. Unhindered he entered into the physician’s chambers, and finding his friend alone quickly explained his need. Demetrios followed Dagda back to the apartments of Bellisarius. Shaking his head at the futility of it all he moved to examine the two bodies.

“Poison,” he said quietly, sniffing first at the region about the prince’s lips, and then moving across the room to check first the dregs in the cups and the decanter. “It’s not in the decanter. It was put into the cups itself.”

“What is it?” demanded Dagda. “Do you know? How was it administered, and by whom?”

“I can’t be certain of what it is,” said Demetrios, “except probably some particularly virulent and highly distilled form of nightshade for which there is no antidote. It worked almost instantly, Dagda. That I can tell for there is virtually no distortion of the bodies. It would have been either powder or a liquid. We’ll never know now as we will never know whether it was a suicide pact between the prince and his lover, or a suicide and murder. We cannot even know which one of them initiated it.”

“The prince was not the actor’s lover any longer,” said Dagda. “He was faithful to my mistress from the day they wed. They were looking forward to leaving the Boucoleon for their own home across the water in just another day or two.”

“Then it is likely that Bellisarius, learning of this, and having been ignored by Prince Basil these last months, lured him here with the intention of murdering him, and taking his own life,” said Demetrios.

“Will you swear to it?” demanded Dagda. “The prince’s death will break my lady’s heart for she loved him with all her being. She never knew of his prior relationships. Not in her wildest imaginings would she believe that Prince Basil would have loved a man. It is not our way.”

The physician nodded with understanding. “There is no need, my friend, to distress the poor lady, any more than she will be. I will attest to the fact that Bellisarius murdered Prince Basil before taking his own life. I cannot stop the gossip that will ensue, Dagda, and believe me there will be gossip. The prince’s previous relationships are well known. Though your lady has been fortunate to escape the rumors until now, she will no longer have that luxury. There will be those who will not believe that Bellisarius murdered the prince. They will say that the two men, lovers still, decided to die together rather than be separated, which they would have been when Prince Basil and his wife left Constantinople. This is a cruel court.”

“I must go and tell my mistress,” said Dagda.

“She does not yet know?”

Dagda shook his head in the negative, and for a moment his shoulders slumped wearily. “She is like my own child,” he said. “Her mother gave her to my care upon her deathbed. I have protected and cared for her all her life, but I cannot keep her from this pain, Demetrios. Even now I feel as if a sword is piercing my own heart.”

“Let me come with you,” said the physician. “The princess may need a sedative for the shock, but do not fear, my friend. She is young and healthy, and time will heal this terrible wound even as it heals all others. Tell me though, is she with child?”

“No,” said Dagda. “Of that I am certain.”

“What a pity. Sometimes a baby gives a widow an even greater reason for living.”

Quickly the two men made their way back to Mairin.

“Where have you been?” demanded Nara. “The princess is just now coming from her bath. She has asked if
he
is back yet. Are they really dead? What happened? If she sees this boy she will want to know who he is. What am I to say?”

“You are to say nothing, Nara,” said Dagda, and he turned to Paul. “You will now serve the court physician, Master Demetrios, boy. You will say nothing of this matter to anyone. Nor will you speak of the prince’s past relationship with your former master. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” said the boy, his dark eyes large and frightened. He considered himself lucky to have gotten off so easily. It was not unusual for slaves who had witnessed sensitive matters to be blinded, have their tongues torn out, or be otherwise maimed or killed to silence them. He could not suppress a shudder, which both men saw.

“You will not be harmed, Paul,” said Demetrios. “You have but to be discreet. I have need of a bright boy like yourself. I shall teach you to grind medicines for me.”

“We must tell her,” said Dagda, and the physician nodded.

“Shall I fetch the lady Eada and our lord Aldwine, Dagda?” asked Nara.

“Yes,” he answered her. “Tell them that the prince has been murdered. They must come quickly for their daughter’s sake.”

“Dagda!”

They turned to find Mairin standing in the doorway between the bedchamber and the anteroom. Nara gave a little shriek, and ran from the room.

“Dagda, what is this that you say? Where is my husband?” Mairin was paler than he had ever seen her. “Where is Basil?” Mairin repeated.

There was no easy way. “He is dead,” Dagda said quietly.

“No!”
She reached out to cling to the doorframe for her knees felt weak, and she wasn’t certain she was capable of standing by herself any longer.
“You lie!”

His eyes filled with tears which he quickly blinked back as he said quietly to her, “Have I ever lied to you, my child? Would I willingly hurt you?”

“No!” This time her voice became a whimper. “Not dead, Dagda.
Please, not dead!
”

With a groan of pain, for his own heart was breaking, Dagda took Mairin in his arms. Holding her protectively within his embrace he begged her, “Weep, child. Weep!”

Mairin pulled from his grasp. Her violet eyes were dark with her anguish. She was ashen in color. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound issued forth. Then without warning she crumpled unconscious to the floor.

“
M
y son is dead! It is your daughter’s fault!” Ileana Ducas accused. Her dark eyes were spilling over with pain. “Oh, Basil, I loved you,” she wept, “but you never really understood how I adored you. Now you are gone!”

“My daughter’s fault?”
Eada was outraged! “It was not my daughter who administered poison to Basil. It was his lover!”

“If your daughter had truly made my son happy he would not have returned to Bellisarius! What kind of a woman was she to drive him into the arms of another man? What terrible things did she do to Basil that he sought solace elsewhere?”

“Mairin loved Basil, and he loved her,” said Eada in a quiet voice. “She is innocent in this matter. You, I am told, are not. Whatever Basil was, you as his mother are partly responsible.”

“What do you dare imply?” demanded Ileana coldly.

“I imply nothing, princess. It is common knowledge in Constantinople that your late husband kept half a dozen young boys for his pleasure. He openly consorted with men of such foul reputation that even the church could not ignore it, and so they excommunicated him. Did you blame yourself for your husband’s behavior as you attempt to blame Mairin for Basil’s behavior? Did you think that because we are strangers here we would not eventually learn your family’s history? Had we known it before our daughter’s marriage to your son took place there would have been no marriage.

“In our land passion such as Basil shared with Bellisarius is considered illicit, ungodly, and shameful. Even with all my years I did not know of such things until my husband was forced to explain them to me.

“How dare you come into my home and accuse my poor child of causing your son’s demise. In the four days since Basil’s death Mairin has lain unconscious. She is devastated by what has happened to her husband. Her husband, who was murdered by his male lover! Where is my child’s crime, princess? She is as innocent as a newborn lamb! Would that Basil, may God assoil his tormented soul, have been so innocent! Beware lest anything happen to my daughter because of your wanton disregard for her happiness. I shall lay a curse upon your family that shall not be lifted until after our Lord’s second coming!

“Now get from my sight! Never again do I wish to lay eyes upon you! You but remind me of the terrible suffering Mairin has been caused. May God and his Blessed Mother help you! If she does not regain consciousness I will kill you with my bare hands! I swear it!”

Ileana Ducas’ composure left her as she stared horrified at Eada. Never before had she noticed how big the Saxon woman was. But how could she not see it now as Eada towered over her, her long dark red hair unbound, and swirling about her in her passionate rage; her blue, blue eyes flashing with menace. Ileana believed Eada when the Saxon threatened her with death. With a shriek she turned and fled the furious woman.

“Good riddance!” Eada ground out through clenched teeth as her husband put gentle calming hands upon her shoulders.

“I do not think she will be back,” said Aldwine. “You have quite frightened her, my love. It reminds me of a time not so long ago when the women of our people were as fierce fighters as the men.”

“Fiercer,” said Eada emphatically.

He laughed softly, turning her toward him to hold her against his chest. It was that familiar gesture of comfort that caused Eada to burst into tears. “No, no, my love,” he soothed her. “Do not cry. I bring good news. Mairin awoke a short while ago. Before she might remember and question, Demetrios gave her a calming draught. She is now sleeping a natural sleep.”

“Th-thank God!” Eada sobbed, and cried all the harder.

Aldwine Athelsbeorn allowed his wife to vent her relief. When her weeping finally eased he said, “When Mairin is strong enough to travel, I want you to take her home to England, Eada. I do not want her remaining in Constantinople. Everything she knows here would be a reminder of Basil. He saw her when she first arrived, monopolized her time, and then quickly married her. Our daughter had no time to make other friends, have other memories of this city.

“For her Constantinople is Basil, and Basil Constantinople. If she remains she will pine away. I have no doubt she loved him, but I will not allow her to waste her life mourning him. He was a charming man. His intentions toward her were good, but he was not worthy of her, Eada. Prince or no, he was not worthy of her!

“I should not have given my consent to their marriage. My ambition for Mairin blinded me. I must bear the greater responsibility for the pain she has been caused, but I will not let her be pained further.