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The younger woman smiled and made way for them, nodding approval.
Nevertheless, afterward, A
“Have you found anything further?” Simonis asked, holding out a goblet of wine and placing a dish of bread and chives in front of A
“No,” A
Simonis said nothing, but her look was eloquent. They were not here risking their lives a hundred miles from home so A
“My tunics are very good,” Simonis said quietly. “Thank you. You must be getting new patients. Rich ones.”
A
“Rich is incidental,” she told her. “They knew Justinian and the other people around Bessarion. I am learning about his friends, and perhaps Bessarion’s enemies.”
Simonis looked up quickly, her eyes bright. She smiled briefly; it was as far as she dared go, in case her belief invited bad luck, and the prize slipped away. “Good.” She nodded. “I see.”
“You don’t like the city much, do you?” A
“It’s necessary,” Simonis replied. “We’ve got to find the truth of what happened, and get Justinian back. You just keep trying. I’ll make new friends. Now go to bed. It’s late.”
Seven
IN EARLY OCTOBER, ZOE SENT A MESSENGER TO ANNA, REQUESTING that she attend her immediately. Zoe drew her like a flame that was dangerous, unpredictable, at times destructive, but above all a blazing light, and A
When she arrived Zoe received her at once, which was in itself a compliment. Today she was dressed in a wine red tunic with a lighter red dalmatica over it, clasped at the shoulder with an enormous gold-and-amber jewel. More gold and amber hung on her ears and around her neck and was echoed at the embroidered hems of her garments. With her topaz eyes and deep bronze hair, Zoe was breathtaking.
“Ah! Anastasius,” she said eagerly, walking toward A
“Good, and getting better all the time,” A
“I am happy they have been useful.” Zoe waved one elegant hand, sharp-nailed and decorated with rings, indicating the table with a jug of wine, several goblets, and a green glass bowl of almonds.
“Thank you,” A
“How can I be of service?” A
Zoe smiled, amused. “Quick to the point, Anastasius. Have I drawn you away from another patient?” She was probing, seeing how Anastasius would walk the razor’s edge between flattery and truth, keeping his own dignity, maintaining the respect for his skill, yet also being available to do whatever Zoe wished. He could not yet afford to refuse, and they both knew it. Zoe was not a patient in this instance, yet it would be absurdly arrogant for Anastasius ever to imagine they were social acquaintances. He was a eunuch from the provinces who earned his own living; Zoe was of an aristocratic family and not just a native of the city, but almost an embodiment of its soul.
A
Zoe’s golden eyes flashed with laughter. “Of course. It is a friend, a young woman named Euphrosane Dalassena. She has a disease of the skin, and it is somewhat embarrassing to her. You seem to be skilled in such things. I have told her you will come.”
A
“If you tell me where I may find her, I shall call,” A
Zoe nodded slowly, satisfied, and named the house and the street. “Urgently, if you please. Study her carefully, consider her mind as well as her body. It is of concern to me how she progresses. Do you understand?”
“I shall be happy to tell you that she is doing well, or not so well,” she replied.
“I don’t care about her skin!” Zoe snapped. “You can take care of that, I have no doubt. She is recently widowed. I am interested in her state of mind, the strength of her character.”
A
“I’ll go straight away,” she said graciously.
Zoe smiled. “Thank you.”
Euphrosane Dalassena was in her late twenties, but at first she seemed younger. Her features were excellent and she should have been lovely, but there was a certain insipidity about her, and A
A
Finally she could bear it no longer. “I go to confession every other day, and I know of no sin of which I have not repented,” she exclaimed. “I’ve fasted and prayed, but nothing comes to my mind. Please help me!”
“God does not punish you for what you can’t help,” A
Euphrosane’s logic was perfect. “Then I must be able to help it,” she said plaintively. “What haven’t I done? I have prayed to Saint George, who is the patron saint of skin diseases, but he is patron saint of a lot of things. So I have also prayed to Saint Anthony the Abbot, just in case I should be more specific. I attend Mass every day, I go to confession, I give alms to the poor and offerings to the Church. Where have I fallen so far short that this has happened to me? I don’t understand.” She lay back on the couch.
A
Euphrosane was still watching her, the sweat dampening her skin and making her hair lank. A
“Could it be that your sin lies in not trusting God’s love enough?” she said, shocked at her own words. “I will give you medicine to take, and ointment to have your maid put on the blisters. Each time you do so, pray, and believe that God loves you, personally.”