Siege

Chapter 10

MAY AND JUNE 1450: CONSTANTINOPLE

The ringing of church bells reached Sofia faintly as she strode through the palace to Constantine's private audience chambers. The sombre tolling marked the end of mourning for the Empress-Mother Helena. Sofia wished that Helena were with her now, to stand by her as she faced Constantine. She had been expecting his summons since she returned to Constantinople the day before, and she dreaded what he would tell her. Was she still to be married, or would she be free?

Sofia entered the audience chamber to find Constantine seated on his throne, a neutral expression on his face. In his right hand he grasped a crumpled copy of the pope's decree. Sofia curtsied before him, and he bid her rise.

'Welcome home, Princess Sofia,' Constantine said. 'I have asked you here to discuss your mission to Italy. Leontarsis has told me that you were very much involved in the negotiations with the pope. Is this true?'

Sofia nodded. 'Forgive me, My Lord, but Leontarsis is a clumsy politician. I thought that I might be more effective.'

'Leontarsis was my appointed ambassador,' Constantine said, his voice rising.

'Even so, I was nearly successful,' Sofia protested. 'And I believe that we can still turn the situation to our advantage, if you only…'

Constantine gestured for her to be silent. 'Your involvement has already led to this!' he roared, holding up the pope's decree. 'I promised my mother on her death-bed that I would enact union, but how can I now? Tell me: how can I!' Then, recovering himself, he continued in an even tone. 'You were sent to Italy to be seen, not heard, Sofia. I had hoped that Leontarsis would find you a husband who could offer us military support, but even that hope is gone.'

How could he reprimand her after all that she had done in Italy? Sofia bit back her anger. 'I did my best to serve you faithfully, My Lord.'

'You serve me best, Sofia, by playing the role of a princess, not a politician. You are lucky that Megadux Notaras is still willing to marry you. I have spoken to him about a date this summer. Until that time, you will do as I say. You are a lady, Sofia. You must behave like one. There will be no more swordplay and no more politicking. If you wish to study, then learn something pleasing: how to sing or play an instrument.'

'Yes, My Lord,' she said in a dead voice.

Constantine frowned. 'I understand that you expressed a wish to visit Father Neophytus, the empress-mother's confessor.' Sofia nodded. 'You have my permission to visit him at the Haghia Sofia. I will send an escort of guardsmen to take you.'

'Thank you, My Lord,' Sofia said. The words tasted bitter in her mouth. She curtsied once more and departed. She was to be married after all. With Helena gone, there was no one left to prevent it. Sofia went to visit Neophytus at the Haghia Sofia on a wet, dreary spring morning that matched the sad spectacle of the once great church, the sight of which always saddened her. It was magnificent even now, but its glory had faded. Although the western facade had been kept in decent repair, the statuary on the side walls was crumbling, and many of the windows that lined the walls of the nave and encircled the building's grand domes were broken. Inside the narthex, the decay was even more obvious. Huge chandeliers bare of candles hovered overhead, suspended from a distant ceiling that was lost in the gloom. Candles were a luxury that had been spared for some time now. The rush torches that had replaced them stood in brackets on the walls, guttering in the draughts from the broken windows above and adding their sooty smoke to the general gloom. The only sound other than the crackling of the torches was the loud drip of water from the high ceiling. The church seemed deserted.

One of the guardsmen who had escorted her to the church stepped forward and rang a small brass bell that hung on the far wall. The loud clanging reverberated off the narrow walls before being swallowed up again by the heavy silence. Sofia heard the sound of approaching footsteps — sandals slapping against smooth stone. At the distant southern end of the narthex a door opened, and a pinpoint of light appeared amidst the gloom. The light came closer, resolving itself into a candle held by a tonsured acolyte in monk's robes.

The acolyte, who looked no older than thirteen, bowed when he saw Sofia. 'My Lady,' he said in a cracking voice. 'How may I help you?'

'I am the Princess Sofia. I have come to see Father Neophytus.'

'Princess Sofia!' the boy squeaked, and then continued in a lower voice. 'Father Neophytus is not expecting you. He is…'

'I apologize for not requesting a formal meeting, but I do not expect a special reception,' Sofia said. 'I merely wish to speak to Father Neophytus regarding the empress-mother. Take me to him.'

'Y-yes, of course,' the boy stuttered. 'Follow me.' Sofia wondered why he seemed so nervous. He was probably unused to women and awed by royalty. He led her through one of the doors and into the nave, with its grand, domed ceiling more than one hundred and fifty feet above the floor — the mightiest structure in all of Constantinople. They crossed the nave and entered the maze of hallways leading to the priests' quarters, finally coming to a stop at a simple wooden door. The boy knocked and called out, 'Father Neophytus, there is a…'

'Halias? Is that you?' Neophytus's voice came from the other side of the door. 'Come in.' Halias opened the door and stepped in, followed by Sofia. Neophytus's cell was small and sparsely appointed. The stone floor and walls were bare of decoration. A low bed covered with a single, coarse linen sheet sat against the wall to the right and a simple oak desk to the left. A small chest in the corner was the only other piece of furniture. Neophytus was at the far wall with his back to them. He was tending the fireplace and looked to be burning something. Sofia caught a glimpse of parchment curling in the flame.

'I have a letter for you to deliver,' Neophytus began as he turned to face Halias, then stopped short when he saw Sofia. He recovered after only a moment's pause. 'Ah, Princess Sofia, what an unexpected pleasure,' he said with a forced smile. 'Perhaps we could speak somewhere where you would be more comfortable.' He gestured towards the door. 'My cell is all that I need, but it is not furnished for a princess.'

'No, you do not need to stand on ceremony,' Sofia insisted. 'I only wish to talk, and this room will serve that purpose.'

'Very well,' Neophytus said, wringing his hands. 'Halias, you may wait outside. Princess, please take a seat.' He pulled his one chair out from the desk. He sat on the bed. 'How can I help you, Princess?'

'It is the empress-mother,' Sofia began. 'You were with her a great deal towards the end. I would like to know if she spoke of me, or if she perhaps left anything for me.'

'I am sorry, but she did not leave anything,' he said. His eyes left her briefly, flicking over to the desk. Sofia glanced that way as he continued talking, but saw nothing unusuaclass="underline" an inkwell, a small vial, a pair of gloves, a hunk of bread and a cup. 'But she did speak of you often. She said — and I hope that I do not offend you — she said that she wished you had been born a man.'

Sofia nodded. That sounded like Helena, but it was not what Sofia wanted to hear. 'Did she say anything else? Did she mention my marriage?'

'I am sorry, Princess, but I do not recall that she said anything about your marriage,' Neophytus said. Sofia frowned. 'Wait, now I remember.' Neophytus paused. 'She wished you great happiness. Just before she died, she said that she wished she could have lived to see you married.' Sofia saw his eyes nervously flick to the side. He was not, she noticed, a very good liar. What was he so nervous about?

Then, she saw it. The cup on the table was not just any cup. The small, solid gold cup with scenes from the Passion engraved on the outside had belonged to Helena. She had used it for her private communion. What was Neophytus doing with it? Had he stolen it? That would explain why he was so nervous, but why, then, had he not already sold it? Why steal the cup and then keep it? There was some mystery here.