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Zoe drank her own glass slowly, savoring it, thinking. She had learned something of delicious and immeasurable value. The power it gave her over Anastasius-no, Anastasia-was limitless. But before she attempted to use it, she would learn all she could about this woman who had chosen to deny herself the greatest natural asset she had. What did she want that she would pay this terrible price for it?
Zoe’s mind raced. She had said she was from Nicea, but was that true? Probably. Only a fool created u
Anastasia was interested in Justinian Lascaris. Was Zarides her true name, or was she too a Lascaris, part of another imperial family? Wife of Justinian? If so, she did not love him, or she would not have so rashly risked her life to save the Venetian. Beyond doubt, she loved the Venetian.
Sister of Justinian! That was what Zoe had glimpsed before. A sister wanting to prove his i
And was Justinian i
The more Zoe could learn about Anastasia the better.
She would also learn more about Giuliano Dandolo’s mother and her life and death, so she could twist the knife of pain in his heart. Anything that he could not disprove would do.
Fifty-three
A WEEK AFTER THAT, ANNA RETURNED HOME TO FIND SIMONIS waiting for her with a strip of paper in her hand.
“From Zoe Chrysaphes,” Simonis said, pursing her lips.
“Thank you.” She put down her bag of herbs and oils and opened the paper.
Anastasius,
Unfortunately I have a slight wound in my leg which needs a surgeon’s attention. Please call on me immediately you receive this.
Zoe Chrysaphes
“When did this come?” A
“Less than an hour ago. Half an hour, perhaps.” Simonis raised her eyebrows. “Are you going?”
“I am,” A
What she found upon her arrival at Zoe’s was the one thing A
“Ah!” Zoe said with clear pleasure. “Thank you for coming, Anastasius. I have a deep spelk in my leg. I am afraid if it is not removed and treated, it may poison me.” She pulled the hem of her gold-colored tunic higher and exposed an angry wound with a spelk of wood sticking out of it and a crust of dried blood around the edges.
“When did it happen?” A
“I was walking in the courtyard last night,” Zoe replied. “After dark. It did not seem serious enough to call you then, but this morning I realized the spelk was still there.”
“Perhaps I should leave you…” Giuliano’s voice came from behind A
“Not at all,” Zoe dismissed the idea. “It is only my ankle. It would be pleasanter for me to have company to take my mind off what Anastasius must do. Please.”
A
Giuliano relaxed. “Thank you.”
Zoe looked at A
“Yes, please.” A
“You are not one to put salt in anyone’s wounds, are you, Anastasius?” Zoe said lightly
“Not so far,” A
Thomais brought the water in several dishes, and the salt and a pile of clean linen bandages, then Zoe dismissed her. She rested her leg on a stool, leaving A
“I have learned a great deal more about Maddalena Agallon.” She said it softly, dropping her voice as if in deep emotion and causing Giuliano to move closer to her and into A
“Most of it concerns her life after she left her husband and her infant son.” Zoe’s face was full of pain, but it was impossible to tell if it was pity for that long ago abandoned child or from the prick of the blade in A
“Why did she go?” Giuliano forced the words from deep inside him.
Zoe hesitated. “I’m sorry,” she said gently to Giuliano, ignoring the wound as if she could not even feel the blade. “It seems she did not want the responsibility of caring for a small boy. She became bored with it. She returned to the life she had had before, but no decent man would have her.”
“How did she… live?” Giuliano asked, his voice cracking.
A
“Can’t you do it?” Zoe asked. “No stomach for it, Anastasius?”
A
She looked down again and deliberately pushed the point of her knife into the flesh on the other side of the spelk, saw the blood ooze and then flood. She was tempted to push harder, even to slice through an artery and watch it gush, pumping, as Gregory’s blood must have, pouring life away.
Zoe turned back to Giuliano. “She turned to the streets, as all women do when there is nothing else,” she said, her voice filling the silence of the room. “Especially beautiful women. And she was beautiful.”
A
“As beautiful as Anastasius here would be,” Zoe went on. She had not even flinched. “If he were a woman, and not a eunuch.”
A
She looked up and met Zoe’s eyes, bright and hard as agate.
“Have I offended you, Anastasius?” Zoe asked with mild interest. “It is not a bad thing to be beautiful, you know.” She turned and looked across at Giuliano, then picked up a paper from the table beside her. “A letter from the Mother Abbess of Santa Teresa. I’m sorry, but you have to know this one day. You have insisted on knowing. Maddalena ended her life a suicide. So many women do, who look to the street for their livelihood.”
Every vestige of blood drained from Giuliano’s face.
A
“I suppose some are better at whoring than others,” she said, looking Zoe full in the face. “But even the most beautiful fade eventually. The lips crease, the breasts sag, the thighs become lumpy, the skin wrinkles and falls away. Lust becomes empty, and then only love matters.”