'The sea was calm, and business is well.'
'Julia tells me that you spent a great deal of time alone with Princess Sofia. I trust that nothing untoward happened between you.'
'Of course not,' Longo said. But an image of Sofia kissing him burned in his mind, and he looked away.
'Good,' Grimaldi replied, 'because the time has come: Julia is ready to wed.'
'But she is young yet, is she not?'
'She is fourteen, old enough to bear children,' Grimaldi said. 'In two weeks' time, you will marry.' Longo did not reply. He thought of Sofia, laughing aboard la Fortuna as the sea spray hit her. 'It is not a suggestion, signor,' Grimaldi insisted.
'I will be honoured to marry her,' Longo replied.
Chapter 8
Sofia stood before the tall, bronze doors of the pope's court, biting her lip as she waited for her first audience with Pope Nicholas. Leontarsis stood to her right, tugging at the jewelled collar of his ceremonial caftan, the letter from the Synaxis gripped tightly in his other hand. They had arrived in Rome a week earlier to find the pope gone, meeting with the German king Frederick III somewhere to the north. The delay had given Sofia time to explore the city. It was a marvel unlike any she had ever seen. Genoa, with its close-packed buildings perched over the bay, had impressed her, and she had been awed by Venice, a city magically built upon water. But Rome tugged at her heart in a way that those cities had not, perhaps because it was so very much like Constantinople. Rome, too, was filled with the ruins left by centuries of empire – the baths of Caracalla, the Colosseum and the forum – but unlike Constantinople, it was a bustling city, vibrant again after centuries of decay. New buildings were rising everywhere, many built from the very stones of ancient Rome. The old Roman forum had come to life once more, holding a daily market. Everywhere there were signs of prosperity. Constantinople was still the capital of the Roman Empire, but Rome was now the glory of Christendom.
And at the root of it all was Pope Nicholas. Sofia had learned all she could about him over the past week. Although only the son of a physician, he had risen quickly through the ranks of the church due to a prodigious memory and an insatiable love of learning. Elected a little under three years ago, he had already overseen the end of the Avignon Papacy and brokered an agreement with Frederick III that restored the rights of the pope vis-a-vis the German king. Now, he had turned his attention to the East. He wished to aid the Greeks, but he was firmly against any union that did not place him at the head of a unified church. He would not react well to the Synaxis' letter. Still, he loved Greek scholarship, and perhaps Sofia could use that to her advantage.
The doors before Sofia swung inward, revealing a long hall illuminated by rows of windows on either side and filled with expensively dressed courtiers and more humbly dressed religious men. As a herald announced them, Leontarsis and Sofia strode through the crowd, Sofia looking past the finery around her to the pope. She had expected an older man, grey-haired and emanating beatific authority, but Pope Nicholas V proved to be a handsome, polished man in his early fifties. He had sharp Italian features and deep, intelligent eyes ringed with black, the eyes of a man who read much and slept little. He was seated on a small throne in full papal regalia – white robes, a conical hat and a staff in his hand. When Leontarsis reached the foot of the throne, he knelt and kissed the pope's ring. Sofia followed suit. The pope bid them rise and welcomed them in Greek.
'Andronicus Bryennius Leontarsis, Princess Sofia, you are both welcome,' he began, his accent flawless. 'We are honoured by the presence of such illustrious ambassadors. I hope and pray that your stay will be a fruitful one.'
Leontarsis bowed again. 'Your Holiness, it is we who are honoured by your most gracious reception. On behalf of my lord, the emperor Constantine, I must express our thanks for your wise leadership of the unified Church and your constant friendship towards us. He offers his friendship in return and begs that you consider this letter from the Synaxis of Eastern bishops.'
'Ah yes, the unified Church,' Nicholas said as he took the letter and set it aside, unopened. 'I am sure that we will have much to discuss concerning the unified Church. But what of you, Princess Sofia? Do you also bring a message from your emperor? Or shall you allow your beauty to speak for you?'
So he was charming as well as handsome, Sofia thought. 'I never allow my beauty to speak for me,' she replied in Latin. And then in Italian, 'I find words to be much more eloquent.'
'Indeed, as the Bible says, "Speech finely framed delighteth the ears",' Nicholas quoted. 'But I am amazed. You are a linguist, then, as well as a beauty.'
'The two are not mutually exclusive, Your Holiness, although it has been truly said, "Men trust their ears less then their eyes".'
'Herodotus!' Nicholas exclaimed, clapping his hands together. 'You are a scholar then as well. All the better. I greatly prize scholarship. As you have no doubt read, "There is only one good – knowledge – and one evil – ignorance".'
'Surely, Socrates believed so,' Sofia said, and Nicholas beamed with pleasure. 'But scholarship alone is a poor teacher. Was it not Heraclitus who wrote, "Much learning does not teach understanding"?'
'Yes indeed,' Nicholas agreed. 'And you might have added, "there is nothing so ridiculous but some philosopher has said it".' He arched his eyebrows questioningly.
'Cicero, Your Holiness.'
Nicholas nodded his satisfaction. 'Your learning does you honour, Princess Sofia. I must introduce you to one of your learned countrymen who has done me the honour of residing at my court: the Cardinal Bessarion. He is a wise man, who has taught me much.'
'I shall be glad to meet him,' Sofia replied. And indeed, she would, particularly if Bessarion had the ear of the pope. 'But I do not believe that he could have much to teach Your Holiness.'
The pope smiled. 'Your words are kind, but, as pride is the downfall of man, I shall be forced to disagree.' He picked up the letter from the Synaxis and tapped it nonchalantly against the arm of his throne. 'Princess, Leontarsis, the friendship of the Greek emperor is most welcome, as are you both. You will join me for dinner tonight, when we will discuss this letter of the Synaxis. Until then, I must ask that you excuse me.' The pope rose and left the room amidst respectful silence. As soon as the door closed behind him, the room burst into noisy life, courtiers grouping in clumps to gossip and politic. Leontarsis went straight to a chamber-pot in the corner to relieve himself.
'I thought that went well,' Sofia said to him when he returned. 'The pope seems well disposed towards us.'
Leontarsis merely grunted his affirmation. No doubt he was already preoccupied with that night's dinner, where he would bear the brunt of the pope's outrage over the letter of the Synaxis. Sofia hoped that he would not say anything foolish. Constantine had instructed Leontarsis that he was not to support union unless the pope agreed to all the demands of the Synaxis. The pope would not react kindly to such an intransigent stance, and Leontarsis had little skill for sweetening harsh words. Indeed, it might be better if Leontarsis were not present at the dinner.
'Leontarsis, are you feeling quite well?' Sofia asked him.
'Much better now, yes,' he responded absently.
'I rejoice to hear it, because if you fell ill before this evening's meal,' she suggested, 'you would not be present tonight when the pope discusses the letter of the Synaxis. You would have to postpone your meeting with him until he has had more time to reflect.'
'What? Sick?' Leontarsis asked. His confusion vanished. 'Yes, I am feeling rather poorly. I am not sure that my seasickness has quite passed. Would you do me the honour of representing me at the pope's table tonight and expressing my regrets?'