Now, with Alexander’s marriage, the populace became eager for their prince’s return. They set to work immediately to build a new palace worthy of Alexander and Theadora. The old royal residence had been located on a hill above the city. Knowing their lord’s love of the sea, and believing that rebuilding on the site of the old palace would be bad luck, the populace placed the palace in a newly created park on the water’s edge. The building was done similar to the classical Greek style. It was pale golden marble with porch pillars of an orange-red veined marble. It was not a large palace, for the Heracles had never been formal people. There was to be only one large reception hall where the lord of Mesembria might hold court, or render public judgements. The rest of the palace was to be private and was separated from this reception hall by a long open porchway.
Before the palace in the center of an oval of green lawn was a large oval pool tiled in turquoise blue. In the center of the pool was a solid gold dolphin, its mouth wide in laughter. The ancient seagod, Triton, cavorted on its back. From the sides of the oval, small whorled shells of gold sprayed toward the center, just missing the fish.
Behind the palace a beautiful garden stretched down to a finely graveled terrace which hung over a beach. In high tide, waves splashed the coral-colored marble balustrade.
Everyone in Mesembria from the greatest artisans to the simple folk worked steadily, completing the new palace in the astonishingly short time of three months. Even the children helped, carrying small things, bringing food and drink to the workers, running errands. The women, too, were a vital part of the city’s effort to bring their rulers home quickly. They worked side by side, maid and matron, the fishmon-ger’s wife and the noblewoman. With delicate strokes they painted frescos on the walls, wove coverlets and draperies of fine Bursa silk and sheer wools, and beautiful tapestries to grace the walls.
Alexander and Adora set sail for Mesembria a scant three months after the day of their wedding. The little villa on the Bosporus was closed, the servants sent overland to Mesembria. Only the couple who served the newlyweds as tiring woman and valet would accompany the prince and his bride aboard ship. Although she missed Iris, Adora felt fortunate in having Anna to serve her. A large, motherly woman who stood close to six feet tall, she treated her mistress lovingly, but with great respect. No one, Anna soon made plain to the other servants, could care for the mistress as she could. Her husband, Zeno, a thin man barely five-and-a-half feet tall, adored her unquestioningly. Anna ruled him with a benevolent iron hand.
Helena knew all this as she knew everything that might be of eventual use to her. As the despot and queen of Mesembria were not returning to Constantinople but sailing directly from their villa on the Bosphorus, the emperor and his wife paid them the compliment of coming to bid them a personal farewell. Seeing her younger sister‘s happiness made Helena alternate between frustrated rage and secret delight. She took great pleasure in knowing that she would, within a few months, destroy her sister‘s happiness.
Reclining on a couch in the lovely rooms assigned to her at the villa, Helena instructed her personal eunuch. “Fetch the lord Alexander’s man, Zeno, and bring him to me. Be sure that neither of you is seen. I want no questions.”
Her eyes glittered and the eunuch shivered inwardly. He had served the empress for five years and he knew her moods. She frightened him, especially when her eyes glowed with malicious glee. He had stood silently by her side on more than one occasion and watched while some unfortunate soul was tortured, often to death, simply to amuse Helena. The eunuch had survived by instant obedience, by doing his job very well, and by never voicing an opinion. Now he brought Zeno to his mistress and quickly left the room, grateful to escape.
Zeno knelt, terrified, before the empress, glad he did not have to stand. He did not believe his legs could have held him. His head was bowed, his eyes lowered. His heart hammered with sickening thuds against his narrow ribcage. The room was deathly silent as Helena rose languidly from her couch and walked slowly around the prostrate man. Had he dared to raise his eyes he would have beheld an incredible vision of beauty for the empress was gowned in soft tones of turquoise-colored Bursa silk, her well-fleshed arms gleaming like creamy polished marble through the sheer gauze sleeves of the gown. About her neck she wore a long double rope of pearls interspersed with round gold beads. But all Zeno could see was the silken hem of her gown and glimpse of gold-and silver-striped clog shoes.
She stood behind him and spoke softly, sweetly, in contrast to the meaning of her words. “Do you know, my friend Zeno, what the penalty for murder is in our realm?”
“M-Majesty?” His throat was constricted with fear, and he could barely force the word out.
“The penalty for murder,” Helena continued softly.
“Like the murder your good wife, Anna, committed. How old was your daughter, Zeno? Ten? Eleven?”
What composure had remained in the servant now vanished. No one had ever suspected that Anna had smothered Marie. The child had been dying of a wasting sickness of the blood. The doctors had been quite frank. There was no hope. Day after day she had faded before their anguished eyes. Finally one night when Marie had lain half in sleep, half in delirium, Anna had silently placed a pillow over the child’s face. When she finally lifted it, Marie was dead, a sweet smile on her little face. Man and wife had looked at each other with complete understanding and never spoken of it again. How this devil-woman had discovered their secret he knew not.
“The penalty for murder, Zeno, is death by public execution. It is not a pretty way to die, particularly for a woman. Let me tell you so you will understand what is facing Anna.
“The night before she is to die, the jailor and his men, as well as the most favored of their prisoners, will take turns using your wife. I have watched such sport occasionally, though I doubt you would find it very diverting. Come morning, her head will be shaved. She will be bound to the back of the wagon carrying her torturers and the executioner-and forced to walk behind it, to the place of her execution, barefoot and naked while being whipped. The crowds love a good show, and she will be pelted with all matter of debris and spit upon-”
“Mercy, Majesty!”
Moving around to stand before him Helena purred on with her recital. “Anna will, of course, be denied the last rites of our church for murder is forbidden by God’s commandments. The murder of a child in particular is a heinous enough crime to ensure eternal damnation.”
A sob escaped Zeno, and the empress smiled scornfully to herself. The plebes were all such weaklings! She continued.
“Anna will be bound, spread-eagled upon a rack. Her breasts will be torn off, her womb ripped out, her hands and feet cut off. She will be blinded with red-hot coals. Lastly, she will be hung by the neck, and she will be left hanging until the birds have picked her bones clean. Then the bones will be ground into powder and thrown to the four winds!”
Zeno finally dared raise his eyes to the queen.
“Why? Why do you tell me this, Majesty? If you wish my dear Anna’s death why do you torture me?”
Helena smiled her sweet smile, and Zeno was amazed. How could a woman who smiled so sweetly be so cruel? And then he saw her eyes. There was no smile in them. They were like polished blue stones. “What I have told you need not be, and your wife may yet live with you to a peaceful old age…if you but render me one small service.”
“Anything!”
Helena smiled again, this time showing her perfect little white teeth. “I am going to give you a box containing a small vial of liquid. In a few months’ time-and you will pick the time carefully-you will open the vial and begin to put a few drops each day into Alexander’s shaving water. Only his shaving water. Coat your own hands with scented oil so that, if the water should touch your own skin, there will be no harm to you. Wash them thoroughly immediately afterwards. When the vial is empty, throw it into the sea. That is all I require of you, Zeno. It is so little. Do it, and your wife’s, ah, indiscretion will be forgotten.”