Siege

'Do not be coy with me, child,' Dalmata said as he took a seat. 'I have known you too long. It is this talk of marriage that troubles you, is it not?'

Sofia looked away, embarrassed that Dalmata had read her so easily, and then sighed and turned to face him. 'Marriage will be like death to me. I was not raised to spend my days hidden away, ordering about servants and nursing children. I cannot bear it.'

'There is iron in you, Sofia,' Dalmata said. 'I believe you can bear anything. And besides, you must marry some day. You could do far worse than Notaras. At least he is a Greek, not some foreign potentate.'

'You do not understand,' Sofia insisted. 'Once I marry him, everything will end. There will be no more lessons in swordplay, no more studies with Sphrantzes, no more politics.'

'Marriage is not all bad. You will see,' Dalmata comforted her. 'And, you are not married yet. It might interest you to know that there will be a meeting in the council room tonight at which Constantine will decide what message to send the pope regarding union.'

'Tonight? Thank you, filos,' Sofia kissed Dalmata on the cheek. He was right. There were more important matters than her marriage. She had taken an oath before the Emperor John to defend Constantinople, and she would keep her word, marriage or no. That night found Sofia creeping through a dark, narrow passage, her lamp covered so as to throw only a tiny ray of light at her bare feet. The palace was riddled with hidden passages and secret chambers. Few now knew that they existed, and even fewer could find their way through the maze of identical dark hallways. But Sofia was one of the few. She had often played in these passages as a young girl; now she used them to gather information.

She came to the end of the passage and mounted spiralling stairs, moving confidently in the dark. At the top of the stairs she stepped into a small alcove, covering her light completely as she did so. In the total darkness she could make out a tiny prick of light shining through the wall before her. She put an eye to the hole, and there was the council room before her. Six people were seated at a round table. To Sofia's left sat Constantine. Across the table from him were Sphrantzes and Dalmata. Helena, the empress-mother, sat with her back to Sofia, and on the far side of the table were Mammas and Notaras, Sofia's betrothed. Sofia turned her attention to Constantine, who was speaking. Through a trick of acoustics, Constantine's voice came to her clearly, as if she were standing in the same room with him.

'The Turkish threat is very real,' he was saying. 'Murad may have declared peace, but I fear an attack will come soon enough. Sphrantzes saw their army and says that it numbers over sixty thousand men. We will need help to defeat such a force. I shall send an ambassador to Venice and Genoa to request troops. But this creates as many problems as it solves, for we cannot very well send an ambassador to Italy without him paying his respects to the pope.' He paused and looked around the table. 'Of course, the message that we send to the pope is of the utmost importance.'

Of the utmost importance indeed; the approach taken with the pope now would define Constantine's policy on the Union of the Catholic and Orthodox churches, which had been divided for over four hundred years. The Catholics insisted on the primacy of the pope and the filioque doctrine, which held that the Holy Spirit flowed from both the Son and the Father. The Greeks, on the other hand, insisted that all bishops were equal and that the Holy Spirit flowed only from God the Father. The doctrinal issues seemed small enough, but they were reinforced by decades of mistrust and anger, culminating in 1204, when the Latins had sacked Constantinople.

The last two emperors had supported union for political reasons: they longed for western aid against the Turkish threat. The clergy, nobles and most of the people, however, were vehemently opposed. Sofia was no friend of the Catholic Church, but she was sure that union was the only way to persuade the Latins to come to the aid of Constantinople.

Mammas spoke first, and his words were no surprise. After publicly championing Demetrius's failed bid for the throne, he had lost the faith of the emperor, and the Catholics were now his only allies. He had little choice but to support union. 'Cardinal Bessarion has written to me from Rome,' Mammas said. 'He tells me that the new pope longs to raise troops for Constantinople. He only awaits a decree of union.'

Sphrantzes nodded. 'I have heard the same. However, with Hunyadi's army in tatters, I do not know how much the pope's support is worth. If Venice and Genoa agree to send troops, then what more can the pope do? He could call for a crusade, but I do not believe that the French would honour it. Resentment over the Avignon Papacy is still strong. As we all know, union would create great anger at home' — a nod towards Notaras — 'and might do more harm than good.'

'Hear, hear!' Notaras agreed, pounding the table for emphasis. 'If we accept the articles of union then we will lose ourselves just as surely as if the Turks take our city. We do not need to go begging to the Latins. We can protect our city ourselves. We have done so for over a thousand years.' Sofia grimaced. It was the sort of prideful idiocy that might well doom them all. Nevertheless, the sentiment around the table seemed to be on Notaras's side. Dalmata nodded sternly in approval, as did Constantine. Even Mammas looked inclined to agree. Only Helena seemed opposed. Sofia could not see her face, but the set of the empress-mother's shoulders told Sofia that she was not pleased. Thank God there was at least one woman at the table to check all this foolish masculine pride.

Constantine noticed Helena's reserve. 'What is your council, Mother?'

'When I was young, our empire was powerful,' Helena began, her voice firm and authoritative. 'We could stand on our own against the Turks then, but not now.' Notaras tried to speak, but Helena cut him off. 'No, Notaras, do not contradict me. I was here when Murad laid siege to the city. If he had not been forced to withdraw in order to deal with rebellions in his own lands, our city would have fallen. We are weaker now and the Turks are stronger. Without Latin help, our city will fall. I would agree to a thousand unions to prevent that.'

'The city will fall?' Notaras asked. 'Who, then, will take it? We have been at peace with the Turks for years. Murad does not want war, and his son is a weakling: he lasted but a few months on the throne after Murad abdicated.'

'If Mehmed is weak, as you say, then that is all the more reason to seek union and to seek it now,' Helena insisted. 'If we can rally the Latins to our cause, then when Mehmed takes the throne, we can strike while he is still young. We could be rid of the Turkish threat once and for all. Is that not worth the price of union?'

'But surely we cannot simply accept the demands of the Latins?' Notaras cried. 'I would never bow before the primacy of the pope, and I know few men who would.'

'Of course,' Constantine agreed, eager to make a conciliatory gesture. He needed Notaras's support. 'The Union is vital, but we must not compromise ourselves. What do you suggest, Notaras?'

'If there is to be union, then it must be on our terms. I propose a letter to the pope, to be written by the Synaxis of bishops. The bishops can lay out the position of the Orthodox clergy, so that we may present a plan for union that meets the full support of the people of Constantinople.'

'The Synaxis?' Mammas sputtered. The Synaxis was a group of bishops who ardently opposed the Union and who refused to recognize Mammas as patriarch. 'But they have no authority.'

'They have the trust of the people,' Notaras replied.

'But not of God!' Mammas retorted.

'And was it God who told you to crown my brother Demetrius as emperor?' Constantine asked.

The blood drained from Mammas's face, and a tense silence settled around the table. Finally, Mammas pushed his chair back and stood. 'I have sworn loyalty to you, Constantine,' he said. 'But if you do not have faith in me, then I will resign and leave now.'