The Sheen of the Silk

And most profoundly, he marveled at the truth. His mother had loved him. All that had been broken inside him was healing. How could he ever thank Anastasius for that?

He and Anastasius set out, riding single file again, down the new pathway, and he was glad of the chance to be alone with his thoughts. In one day, what had been a feeling of abandonment and shame had become the deepest love imaginable. His mother had sacrificed every happiness she had so that he would survive and be loved.

Now his Byzantine heritage was rich with passionate, lifelong, and selfless love. Surely no child had been loved more? He was glad that in the darkness of the long ride, Anastasius could not see the tears on his face and that with the frequent need to pass single file on the rough road, there was little chance to speak.

Seventy-five

ANNA SAT WITH EIRENE VATATZES IN HER RICH, unfeminine bedroom with its somber colors and rigid patterns on the walls. It was at once beautiful and lonely. Now it smelled stale, of perspiration and decay. She did all she could for Eirene to lessen the pain, and simply by being there, by a touch, a word, to still some of her fear. She did not lie to her; it would have been pointless. She knew Eirene would not recover this time. Each day her strength lessened and her times of complete lucidity became briefer.

A

Eirene tossed in the bed, turning over, dragging the sheet with her. She moaned in pain. A

Maybe only Demetrios’s intentions now were important. But Eirene was A

“Zoe!” she said suddenly. Her eyes were closed, but there was such an expression of ferocity in her face that it was hard to believe she was not conscious. “Soon you’ll be all alone,” she whispered. “We’ll be dead. What will you do then? Nobody to love, nobody to hate.”

A

“He had to die,” Eirene began again, shaking her head abruptly from side to side. “Deserved it.”

A

“No, he didn’t deserve it,” A

Eirene’s voice came back so strongly, it startled her. “Yes, he did. He kept the icons his father stole when they were leaving the burning city. He should have given them back. I could have killed him myself, if I’d dared. I should have.”

A

“Not Gregory, you fool!” Eirene said witheringly, now fully conscious. “His cousin Arsenios. That’s why Zoe killed him.” She closed her eyes again, as if too weary to be bothered with anyone so stupid. “Gregory knew that,” she added as if it were an afterthought. “Revenge. Always revenge.” She sighed and seemed to drift into sleep again.

A

But Zoe’s revenge had not been only Arsenios’s death, it was his daughter’s humiliation and his son’s death as well. And unwittingly, A

She looked down now at her lying on the bed. Eirene’s face was not so much at peace as totally empty of passion or even intelligence. Had Gregory ever loved her? Did he care about her ugliness, or had she cared about it so much that in the end she had forced him to care also?

For another two days, Eirene seemed to remain much the same. She was often asleep, but apparently easier in her mind, the pain less acute. Then quite suddenly she became worse. She woke in the night barely able to move, her body drenched in sweat. A

Eirene opened her sunken, clouded eyes and stared at A

A

“Given up at last?” Eirene’s lips were dry and her throat tight. “Give me some more of that herb that tastes like gall.” She blinked and stared at A

A

A

“Fetch Demetrios,” she told him. “I think she has not long left.”

The servant went away, footsteps rapid on the tiled floor. He returned ten minutes later to say that Demetrios had gone out earlier and not yet returned. Apparently, he had not expected to be needed so soon.

“If he returns, tell him his mother is dying,” A

The candle guttered. She lit another.

Suddenly Eirene opened her eyes again, and her voice was quite clear. “I’m going to die before morning, aren’t I.”

“I think so,” A

“Fetch Demetrios. I have something I need to give him.”

“I already sent for him. He’s not in the house, and the servant ca

Eirene was silent for a few moments. “Then I suppose you’ll have to do,” she said at last. “Gregory thought Zoe loved him, but she betrayed him with Michael,” she said. “You didn’t know that, did you?” There was satisfaction in her. “Michael is Helena’s father. Imagine that! That would have given Bessarion a double right to the throne, don’t you see?”

A chill thought struck A

“I have letters,” Eirene said, biting her lip as the pain washed over her again. “From him to Zoe.”

A

Eirene smiled, although it was more a baring of the teeth. “Gregory took them.”

“Does Zoe know you have these letters?”

“She knows Gregory did. She didn’t know I took them from him. He never dared challenge me for them back.”

A