Siege

'No, stay. Tell me what you propose.'

'Very well,' Mammas said, sitting. 'I agree with Notaras that a letter should be written, but as the patriarch, I should be the one to write it. Who better to express the views of the clergy?'

'But most of the clergy reject Mammas,' Notaras insisted. 'They will never accept union unless it is of their own making.'

'We shall send two letters, then,' Constantine said. 'You, Mammas, shall write one, and the Synaxis the other. When confronted with such unified support for union, the pope will surely be willing to concede some minor points.'

'But My Lord!' Mammas protested. 'The Synaxis is not a legally constituted body. If they are to send a letter to the pope, then I want no part of it. I would resign my post before I allowed myself to be associated with those heretics.'

'You speak in haste, Patriarch,' Constantine said.

'No, I assure you,' Mammas insisted. 'If the Synaxis letter is sent, then you will have to find a new patriarch.' The room fell silent.

Constantine frowned. 'The Synaxis will send their letter,' he said at last. 'I beg you to also write to the pope, Mammas, and to reconsider your decision.'

Mammas shook his head grimly and rose from the table. 'I will not stand for this,' he said and stormed from the room. His grating voice could be heard as he stomped down the stairs. 'Let it be on your own heads!' he shrieked. 'On your own heads!' His voice echoed in the stairwell and then faded to nothing.

'I shall send Andronicus Bryennius Leontarsis as our ambassador,' Constantine said, breaking the silence. 'Are there any objections?' There were not. 'Good. Sphrantzes, you will brief him on the position of the Venetians and Genoese. That is all.'

Before Constantine had finished speaking, Sofia was already creeping away. She had heard what she had come for. Constantine would push for union, and that was all that truly mattered. Still, Mammas's outburst worried her, as did the letter of the Synaxis: it was sure to anger the pope. Sofia doubted that simple old Leontarsis would be able to handle the situation. If only she could be there in Rome, then she would be able to soften the words of the letter, to make the pope understand the need for union. But that was not to be. In only a few months, she would be married to Notaras. 'God curse the day that I was born a woman,' she silently swore, and not for the first time. The monk Gennadius sat behind the broad desk in his cell at Saint Saviour Pantocrator and held up a tiny vial filled with a golden liquid. He watched as the candlelight refracted through the liquid and then unstopped the vial and sniffed. There was almost no odour, only the faint smell of almonds. He was told that many could not smell even that. The liquid had been sent to Gennadius by a friend at the Ottoman court, and it was a most deadly poison. The full dose would kill in a matter of seconds, but in smaller amounts, the poison would take months to do its work and leave no trace. It would be perfect for Gennadius's plans.

There was a knock at the door, and Gennadius placed the vial aside on his desk. 'Enter,' he called. The door opened to reveal the monk Eugenius and behind him, Notaras. 'Welcome, Notaras,' Gennadius said. 'You have come at just the right time. Please sit.' He waved Notaras to an empty chair, and Eugenius withdrew, closing the door behind him. 'You have been at the palace?'

'Yes,' Notaras replied. 'Constantine is committed to union, as we both feared. He is sending Leontarsis to Rome to discuss terms with the pope. I did as you suggested and supported the entire enterprise, with the condition that a letter to the pope should be drawn up by the Synaxis.'

'And here is the very letter.' Gennadius handed a piece of parchment across the desk to Notaras, whose eyebrows shot up as he read.

'The rejection of the filioque doctrine… the recognition of councils as superior to the pope… the use of leavened bread in the communion… such demands!' Notaras said, handing the letter back. 'The pope will be furious.'

'Indeed,' Gennadius agreed. 'I expect he will send us his own set of demands in short order, and, God willing, they will be even more insolent than ours. Not even Constantine will be able to stomach such an affront, and that will be an end to this talk of union.'

'I fear not,' Notaras said. 'The empress-mother has Constantine's ear, and she is committed to union at any cost.'

'The empress-mother?' Gennadius's lips curled back in his predatory smile. 'Never fear. She will not trouble our plans for much longer.'

Notaras's eyes narrowed as they focused on the vial on Gennadius's desk. 'Surely you do not mean to…'

'No, no, of course not,' Gennadius lied as he placed the vial in a drawer of his desk. 'I only meant that she is old, very old, and that the end of her time must be near.' He could tell that Notaras was not entirely convinced. 'What of Patriarch Mammas?' he changed the subject. 'How did he react?'

'As you expected. He refused to be involved. He even went so far as to claim that if the letter were sent, he would resign as patriarch.'

'Good,' Gennadius said, rubbing his hands in pleasure. 'With a little push, perhaps we can convince him to leave Constantinople altogether. I shall have to make sure that a copy of this letter finds its way to him. Can you imagine what a scene he would make were he to run to Rome, telling the pope of how he has been mistreated? He would do more to poison the pope against Union than a thousand of these letters.'

'Indeed,' Notaras murmured. 'Now if you please, Gennadius, I will take my leave. I must rise early tomorrow to inspect the walls.'

'Very well. God keep you, Notaras.' Gennadius called Eugenius and watched him lead Notaras away. Then he opened his desk and once more removed the vial of poison. It was time to deal with Helena Dragases. 'You may enter,' the guard whispered and waved Sofia into Helena's darkened room. After the sunny brightness of the hallway, the darkness was impenetrable at first, and Sofia paused to allow her eyes to adjust. The scene brought back painful memories of the death of her uncle, Emperor John VIII. A stick of incense burned on a table near the door, filling the air with its heady smell. Next to it were two votive candles, their small flames the room's only source of light. They illuminated heavy curtains hung over the windows and an enormous bed, its four posts reaching up into the darkness. Helena lay on the bed, her eyes closed. She had become ill two weeks ago. The court physicians were at a complete loss and could recommend only rest and an occasional bleeding to rectify her humours. Despite all their care, Helena's condition had steadily worsened.

Sofia walked quietly across the deep carpet and knelt beside Helena's bed. This was the first time that she had seen the empress-mother since her illness began, and Sofia was surprised at how frail she was. Her skin looked brittle — papery and white — and she shuddered as she breathed. Helena's eyes opened a crack, and upon seeing Sofia, she smiled, a smile that looked more like a grimace on her gaunt face. Sofia helped as Helena pushed herself up, propping herself with pillows.

Helena turned to Sofia. 'You wished to see me, my dear?' she said, her voice a harsh whisper.

'Yes, Mamme, but I do not wish to trouble you.'

Helena waved away her concern. 'This is only a passing indisposition. I will be better soon enough. Indeed, I feel greatly recovered over the past few days. But what of you, my dear? I am told that you have not been sleeping well. Are you ill?' Sofia shook her head. 'Well then, tell me.'

Sofia lowered her eyes from Helena's searching gaze and took a deep breath. 'It is my marriage, Mamme,' she murmured.

'Are you fearful of the wedding night?' Helena asked. Sofia blushed and shook her head. 'Perhaps you do not approve of your husband-to-be, Notaras?'

'It is more than that, Mamme,' Sofia said, looking up. She paused, and Helena nodded encouragingly. 'It is marriage itself.' The words — so long kept to herself — spilled out now. 'I am every bit as capable as Notaras, and yet as his wife, I will be nothing. Notaras will not allow me to step outside the home, much less take part in councils or handle a sword. The second I marry him, my life will be over. I will be just another pretty thing, good only for bearing children. I cannot submit to it, Mamme.'