The Sheen of the Silk

She was not even certain that Bessarion’s death was a result of his religious fervor. It could have been personal. He had clearly been abrasive, difficult to be at ease with, and Helena had been bored with him. That she could understand too easily.

She had thought that Bessarion himself must be the key to his own death. It had not been difficult to ask about him. The city was still full of memories, and as the stories of torture and imprisonment mounted, his stature as a hero grew. But A

Then why had he been murdered?

It was like looking at a mosaic picture with the center missing. It could have been any of a score of things. Without it she was floundering, wasting more precious time.

Again and again she came back to the Church and its danger of being consumed by Rome. Had Justinian loved it with the passion that would drive him to spend time, energy, and loyalty with people he did not like in order to preserve its identity from corruption?

She shivered in the dying sun, even though the whisper of a breeze rising held no chill at all.

She needed to meet others like Esaias Glabas, who had been an unlikely friend of Justinian’s, and Eirene and Demetrios Vatatzes. Eirene sometimes had poor health. A

It took A

However, on the second call Eirene greeted A

“I am afraid the pain is worse,” Eirene said frankly, standing with her arms limp at her sides, as if even in front of a physician she was embarrassed to mention something so personal.

A

“And in the chest also?” A

Eirene smiled. “You are going to tell me that my heart is weak. I shall acknowledge it and save your searching for comforting words.” There was a bitterness to her humor, but no self-pity.

“No,” A

Eirene’s eyebrows shot up. “Sin? I’d heard better of you than that. Zoe Chrysaphes said you were no lover of obedient thoughts and the safety of men’s beliefs.”

“I had not imagined her so sharp of vision,” A

Eirene smiled widely. In her ugly face, it was like a blaze of sunlight across a bleak landscape. “Zoe looks at everyone, especially those she judges can be of use to her. Don’t take it as flattery. It is merely that she weighs every tool to the fraction of an ounce before she considers using it. Now give me a candid answer: What is wrong with me? You looked at me thoroughly enough when you were here before.”

A

Anger flared up Eirene’s face, her eyes burning. “You will answer to me, you impudent creature. My body is my affair, not my husband’s.”

A

“Much of your illness comes from anxiety,” A

Eirene blushed. “I apologize. My husband is in Alexandria. I do not know whether he is safe or not. I do not worry about it, because it would be pointless.” She turned away and, with an effort, walked upright toward the archway into the court and the high, bright flowers beyond.

So Gregory was still in Egypt, even so many years after most other exiles had returned to Constantinople from every other region.

A

She spoke to Eirene of the usual things a physician addresses: food, sleep, the benefits of walking.

“Do you imagine I haven’t thought of all that?” Eirene said, disappointment dragging her voice down again.

“I am sure you have,” A

“You are as bad as my priest,” Eirene remarked. “Would you like me to say a dozen Paternosters?”

“If you can do it without your mind wandering off to other things,” A

Eirene looked at her, a begi

“I would not dare,” A

This time Eirene laughed outright, a rich sound with layers of meaning, at least some of them malicious. How had Zoe hurt her?

“I have an herbal extract for you…” A

“What is it? A sedative? Something to stop me feeling the pain?” There was contempt in Eirene’s face. “Is that your solution to life’s griefs, physician? Cover them up? Don’t look at what will hurt you?”

A

“I suppose you know what you are talking about,” Eirene said with a shrug. “You can tell Zoe that my household knows you came on her recommendation. I shall hold her responsible for anything that happens to me. Come back tomorrow.”

When she returned, A

Afterward, A

“How is my mother?” he repeated urgently.

“I believe anxiety and fear are eating inside her,” A

“What has she to be afraid of?” Demetrios was watching her closely, but disguising it in a show of disdain.