Alexius turned to Haraldr and asked him to precede him through the mob that had squeezed into the narthex. The faces that blocked the way were a cross section of the great city: dirty-haired labourers; a puffy-faced, silk-garbed merchant; scented bureaucrats; even a beggar crawling with lice. These heads lowered deferentially and the bodies tried to move respectfully back, but the crowd was so dense that they could scarcely move, and Haraldr had to bull through with the Patriarch tucked in behind him.
The immense circular candelabra floated with galactic splendour beneath the light-wreathed dome. Glowing stringcourses of candles and oil lamps ran along every cornice and ledge. The floor was a solid mass of people, and the towering second-level arcades were filled with entire populations. The carved balustrades of the narrow walkways above the arcades seemed on the verge of giving way beneath the weight of the people squeezed behind them; the slender stone ledges in front of the railings were perches for hundreds who clung precariously to the intricate grills. The people had even found their way to the catwalk that encircled the base of the hemispherical central dome, and hung in even more perilous positions more than a dozen storeys above the heads of their fellow citizens. It was only a matter of time before someone plunged into the crowd.
Theodora, flanked by her chamberlains, stood on the silver roof of the ambo, directly beneath the central dome. She was attired in the same purple-and-gold robes and ponderous diadem she had worn throughout the afternoon. Haraldr pushed through the crowd and after an arduous journey delivered Alexius to the marble staircase of the ambo. Alexius motioned for Haraldr to come up the steps behind him.
Theodora’s lips puckered with fatigue and fear. She looked gratefully at Alexius and then Haraldr as they stepped onto the roof beside her. Alexius stood next to her and motioned to Haraldr to stand directly behind the Empress, so close that he could have embraced her. The glittering pearl-and-diamond lappets that coursed over Theodora’s ears trembled slightly, reflecting the agitation of their wearer.
‘I must acclaim you,’ said Alexius. ‘They are growing impatient.’
‘No,’ said Theodora, her voice slightly tremulous. ‘Wait another half hour. I know she will come.’
Alexius looked out at the sea of expectant faces. ‘I will delay for a half hour,’ he said. ‘Then I must, and pray that our Holy Father’s sanction can overcome your sister’s enmity.’ He steeped back from Theodora and pulled Haraldr aside. ‘You have been through the city and dealt with the factions. What is your assessment?’
‘The poor folk will accept Theodora alone. The guild and trade factions expect to acclaim both Empresses,’ said Haraldr grimly. ‘If they are not both presented here tonight, the factions will turn on one another. The guildsmen are already rumbling their threats.’ Haraldr pointed to the Varangians who ringed the base of the ambo. ‘I am certain my men can escort the Empress safely to your apartments, but we will have to stain our swords with the blood of this morning’s comrades and profane the floors of this holy place. And by tomorrow morning there will be a full-scale civil war in the streets of the city. Even my men and the Taghmata will not be able to quell the violence. Rome will be destroyed.’
Alexius blanched slightly, but his eyes did not flinch from Haraldr’s forecast. ‘Yes’ – he nodded gravely – ‘you are quite astute. You will be an able king.’ His eyes slowly swept the huge church. ‘I will wait as long as I can. Then I must acclaim her. Better that we please half of these than no one at all.’
The half hour passed beneath the blazing lights. ‘Where is Zoe?’ shouted a guildsman near the ambo. The cry was taken up briefly. ‘Zoe! Zoe!’ The poor folk countered with ‘Theodora! Theodora! Give us our Empress!’ A fight broke out just beneath the ambo, and Halldor’s shoulders cleaved the crowd as he waded in to separate the combatants. At the back of the church another scuffle erupted and began to spread. Soon there was a twenty-person brawl just in front of the narthex. The shouting became general, and many of the people on the catwalks and arcades leaned over and shook their fists.
‘We are losing the moment God has given us,’ said Alexius. He stepped forward. ‘Children of God!’ the Patriarch’s voice ran through the domes. He made the sign of the cross and the crowd quieted. ‘Where is Zoe!’ shouted someone defiantly. The shoving near the narthex resumed.
A roar came from within the narthex. Haraldr realized that the violence was probably much more ferocious outside the church; now the mob outside was forcing its way in. He sickened at the thought of killing these people. The pressure of the crowd outside surged against those inside, and they began to fall to the marble floor in successive waves. Haraldr shouted to Halldor to ready a boar to carry Theodora to safety. The roaring from outside continued. ‘Forget the acclamation! We only have time to save her!’ shouted Haraldr to Alexius. Haraldr took Theodora’s bony elbow and urged her towards the steps.
‘No!’ Theodora shook her arm loose and stood stiffly, her head erect. ‘They will have to carry me from this place.’ Haraldr looked desperately at Alexius. The cost of the Empress’s safety was rising with every oath the crowd uttered. Alexius shook his head helplessly.
Haraldr turned towards the narthex. The crowd had quieted, and those who had fallen remained prone without struggling to rise. The Imperial Diadem and purple-and-gold robes glittered beneath the massive pediment of the church’s main door. The Empress and Augusta Zoe stepped through the prostrate forms of her subjects with the grace of a dancer. Behind Zoe walked the Mistress of the Robes in a celestial white-and-gold scaramangium. Maria’s blue eyes were visible even across half the vast nave. Her pearl-wreathed head never dipped to observe her feet despite the awkward path. She always looked directly at the ambo. Theodora’s slender shoulders heaved once, and she gasped with relief and joy. Alexius made the sign of the cross and his terrible eyes enjoyed an instant of triumph before they focused on the unseen foe he was now girded to meet.
Zoe ascended the stairs of the ambo in a silence so absolute that Haraldr could hear the click of her pearled hem against the marble steps. Her face was heavily masked with paint and powder, but her reddened, shrouded eyes betrayed both the terror of the last few days and the emotion of the moment. Her gaze swept quickly past her sister and Alexius as she mounted the ambo and turned to her people. Maria looked steadily at Haraldr as she came to the top of the steps, and there was much as passion in her glistening eyes and faintly twitching lips as he had ever known when he had held her naked in his arms. Then she turned, bowed to Theodora and the Patriarch, and stood between the two sisters.
Zoe looked down on her still-prostrate subjects. ‘Augusta Theodora,’ she said without looking at her sister, ‘I offer you the equal share of my office and my throne.’
‘Not equal, Augusta Zoe,’ said Theodora, her face brilliant with emotion. ‘You have precedence. I acknowledge that. And you are free to marry if you wish, and place an Emperor above us both. I owe you that much.’
Zoe’s breast surged and she blinked rapidly. Her sensual lips trembled, naked with emotion. ‘I have missed you,’ she whispered.
Theodora turned to Zoe with abrupt, artless sincerity; for a moment it seemed her precarious crown would topple. Tears moistened her dry, red cheeks. ‘Sister,’ she whispered. Zoe turned. ‘Sister,’ she said, her eyes welling. They confronted each other for a moment, and then stepped forward and embraced.
Maria came to Haraldr’s side. The last time he had seen her she had been disguised as a hideous crone; now he had never seen her more beautiful, her eyes more supernaturally radiant. She grazed his sleeve with her finger; he thought his knees would buckle with the intoxication of that mere contact. ‘I love you,’ she whispered as the sisters continued to exchange caresses and their own intimacies. ‘I could not send word to you. Symeon and I hid all night. We were able to get Zoe away from Michael and have spent the rest of the day persuading her. We knew that everything depended on it.’