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She acknowledged Constantine’s thanks and changed the subject.
Seventy-three
ANNA PICKED DELICATELY AT THE HERB LEAVES IN HER small garden. It was time to harvest many of them. The wild poppy heads were nearly ready to gather. She watered and tended the hellebore, aconite, digitalis, pe
Here in the shelter of the house on one side, and the outer wall on the other, the sun was warm on her shoulders, a memory of summer as the year faded fast. If the union did not become real enough to hold off Charles of Anjou and his crusaders, next summer might be the last before they attacked.
Would she be one of those who tried to escape, or would she stay, as perhaps a physician should? She would be needed here.
And afterward, what then? Life in an occupied city, under an enforced crusader rule. There would be no Orthodox Church then. But if she was honest, it was becoming more and more difficult for her to ally wholeheartedly with the Orthodox faith. She was begi
She missed Giuliano. She could still remember, as if it had been moments ago, the look in his face when he had seen her in a dress. It was almost as if part of him had known and been repelled so intensely that it had churned his stomach, filled his mind with an i
Afterward on the voyage back, he had made a massive effort of will to forget it, but nothing could erase the knowledge from his mind or hers. In a way, they had gone back almost to the begi
Now she would do for him the only thing she could: release him from his own sense of being tainted by his mother’s betrayal, unloved and possibly unable to love, as if her blood in him were a poison in his soul.
If she was able to discover more, perhaps it would not be as bad as Zoe had said.
Where would Zoe have looked for Maddalena Agallon? Was there still an Agallon family in Constantinople, or had they remained in the cities of their exile?
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She would begin her quest by asking Shachar. Months passed as she awaited his answers.
She came in answer to his summons. The heavy skies of early winter were closing in, and his message told her to come warmly clothed and prepared for a long ride.
“I have made inquiries about the Agallons. We are going to a monastery,” Shachar informed her. “It is several miles outside the city. We may not be back until morning.”
She felt a quickening in her pulse, fear, and surprise.
He smiled, leading the way through to the back courtyard of his house where she had never been before. Two mules were ready, and obviously he intended to leave without delay.
They were a mile beyond the outskirts of the city, and it was dark, almost moonless, when he spoke to her quietly. “I have found Maddalena’s sister, Eudoxia. I have little idea what she will tell you, but she is old and ill, a nun in a monastery. You are calling as a physician to see her and possibly treat her. You may ask what you wish, but you will have to accept whatever she says, and under whatever conditions she imposes. Your treatment is not conditional. If she chooses to tell you nothing, then still you will do your best for her.”
“I?” she said quickly. “What about you?”
“I am a Jew,” he reminded her. “I will be your manservant. I know the way and you do not. I will wait outside. You are both a Christian and a eunuch, the ideal person to treat a nun.”
They rode together in silent companionship for another two hours until the black mass of the monastery loomed out of the shadows on the hillside. It was a huge building with small, high windows, like a fortress or a prison. Shachar was admitted only as far as the shelter of the kitchen.
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She tried to swallow the tightness in her throat and thanked the nun who had escorted her, then stepped into the room. There was a plain wooden crucifix above the bed, and near the door was a dark, severe, and beautiful icon of Mary. “Sister Eudoxia?” she said quietly.
The woman opened her eyes curiously and then sat up a little farther on the bed. “The physician. They are kind to have sent for you, but you are wasting your time, young man. There is no cure for age, except God’s cure, and I think I shall gain that quite soon.”
“Do you have pain?” A
“Only such as mortality and regret bring to all of us,” Eudoxia replied.
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“Well enough.”
“Are you sure? Is there nothing I can do for you? No discomfort I can ease?”
“Perhaps I could sleep better. Sometimes I dream. I would like to do that less,” the old woman replied with a slight smile. “Can you help that?”
“A draft could ease you. What about pain?”
“I am stiff, but that is time catching up with me.”
“Sister Eudoxia…” Now that the moment had come, what A
The old woman looked at her curiously, waiting. Then she frowned. “What troubles you, physician? Are you looking for a way to tell me I am going to die? I have made peace with it.”
“There is something I would like very much to know, and only you can tell me,” A
“Giuliano?” Eudoxia said, no more than a breath between her lips.
“Can you tell me about his mother?” A
Eudoxia put a frail, blue-veined hand up to her cheek, fingers still slender. “Maddalena ran away with Giova
“But her marriage to Dandolo…” A
“Father had it a
Eudoxia was pale; tears welled in her eyes. A
“Her husband accepted the situation to begin with. He took Maddalena to live some distance away. However, when the baby was born, and was a boy, he became jealous. He was brutal, not only to Maddalena, but he threatened the child also. At first it was only in little ways, and Maddalena thought he would get over it.” Her voice was strained with old grief, sharp again as when it was new. “But Maddalena’s husband knew she still loved the boy’s father, and every time he looked at the child, it was a reminder, another twist to the knife of his jealousy. His violence increased. Giuliano began to have accidents. Twice the servants rescued him only just in time from being seriously injured, perhaps killed.”