Ana moaned in her sleep. She sat up with tears streaming down her face, racked with anguish.
She went to the minibar for water and opened the window to let in some cool air.
Cavafy's poem seemed to have come true, and the voices of the dead had stormed her sleep. So real had the dream been that she felt that what she had seen and heard as she slept had actually happened. She was sure that the events had unfolded just that way.
After a shower she felt better. She wasn't hungry, so she stayed awhile in her room looking through the books she'd bought for information on Balduino de Courtenay, the emperor gone begging. There was little to be found, so she went online, even though she didn't always trust what she discovered on the Internet. She was looking for information on the Templars, too, and to her surprise she came across a page supposedly posted by the Order of Knights Templar itself-an order that no longer existed. It was well known that it had been eradicated by the king of France in the fourteenth century. She called the head of IT at her newspaper and explained what she needed.
A half hour later the IT man called her back. The Web site server was in London-and the site was perfectly registered, perfectly legitimate.
31
c. A.D. 1250
My lord, a messenger has just arrived from your uncle." The emperor of Byzantium stirred at the sound of his servant's voice and then sat up slowly, blinking sleepily. As he came fully awake and realized Louis's long-awaited response was at last at hand, Balduino leapt out of bed and ordered his manservant to send the messenger in.
"You should dress, my lord," murmured Balduino's chief adviser, who had also entered the chamber. "You are the emperor, and the envoy is a nobleman from the court of France."
"Pascal, if you did not remind me, I would happily forget that I am emperor. Help me, then. Is there an ermine cape I've not yet sold or pawned?"
Pascal de Molesmes, himself a noble sent by the king of France to serve the king's disgraced nephew, remained silent.
Indeed, however, there was no ermine cape. Not long ago the emperor of Byzantium had even ordered the lead stripped from the roof tiles of his palace in order to sell it off to the Venetians, who were making enormous profits off Balduino's financial straits.
By the time the emperor was seated in the throne room, his courtiers were whispering nervously as they awaited the news from the French king.
Robert de Dijon touched his knee to the floor and bowed his head before the emperor. Balduino gestured for him to rise.
"So, my lord, what news bring you from my uncle?"
"His Majesty the king is in fierce battle in the Holy Land, attempting to liberate the sepulcher of our Lord. I bring you the good news of the conquest of Damietta. The king advances and shall conquer the lands of the Nile on his way to Jerusalem. Thus at present he cannot aid you as he would wish, for the cost of his expedition far exceeds the Crown's annual levies. He recommends that you have patience and faith in the Lord. Soon you will be called to his side as the faithful and most beloved nephew that you are, and he will aid you then in overcoming the tribulations that you now suffer."
Balduino's eyes filled with tears at the devastating message. A harsh look from Pascal de Molesmes steadied him.
"I have also brought you a letter from His Majesty."
Dijon took from his belt a document bearing the seal of the king and held it out to the emperor, who took it limply and passed it to de Molesmes. Balduino then extended his hand to the noble messenger, who bowed once more and kissed the emperor's ring. "Shall there be a reply to His Majesty's letter?" "You are returning to the Holy Land?" "First I am to journey to the court of Blanca de Castilla; I am taking her a letter from her son, my good King Louis. One of the knights who accompanies me is burning to return to the king's side to battle the infidels, and he shall bear whatever message Your Majesty might wish to send your uncle."
Balduino nodded and stood up. He left the throne room without looking back.
"What am I to do now, Pascal?" he cried to de Molesmes when they were alone.
"What you have done on other occasions, my lord." "Go to the courts of my relatives, who seem unable to grasp how vital it is that Constantinople be saved for Christianity? I do not ask these things for myself! We are the last Christian bastion between them and the Muslims-but the Venetians are an avaricious people, who are forging an alliance with the Ottomans behind my back; all the Genovese care about is the profits from their trade; and my cousins in Flanders complain of not having enough resources to help me. Lies! Am I to prostrate myself again before those princelings, beg them to help me preserve the empire? Do you think God will forgive me for pawning the crown of thorns worn by His crucified son?
"I have no money to pay the soldiers, or the people of the castle, or my nobles. I have nothing, nothing. From the moment I became emperor at twenty-one, I have dreamed of restoring the empire's splendor, recovering the lands it has lost, and what have I done? Nothing! Since the Crusaders divided the empire and sacked Constantinople, I have barely been able to maintain the kingdom, and good Pope Innocent is deaf to my pleas."
"Calm yourself, my lord. Your uncle will not abandon you."
"Did you not hear the message?"
"Yes, and in it he tells you that he will send for you when he defeats the Saracens."
The majestic chair in which the emperor was seated had been stripped of its gold leaf some time ago. Balduino stroked his beard reflectively, his left foot beating a nervous staccato on the tiles.
"My lord, you must read the king's letter."
De Molesmes handed Balduino the sealed scroll Dijon had presented.
'Ah! Yes, my uncle no doubt recommends that I be a good Christian and not lose faith in our Lord."
Breaking the king's scarlet seal, the emperor scanned the missive, a look of growing astonishment suffusing his face.
"My God! My uncle does not know what he is asking for!"
"The king makes a demand of you, my lord?"
"Louis assures me that despite the difficulties he is experiencing with the cost of the Crusade, he is willing to advance me a certain amount of gold if I deliver the Mandylion to him. He dreams of showing it to his mother, the most Christian lady Doiia Blanca. He bids me sell him the relic or allow him to hold it for a number of years. He says that he has met a man who assures him that the Mandylion has miraculous qualities, that it has already healed a king of Edessa of leprosy, and that the man who possesses it shall never suffer. He says that if I agree to his request, I can negotiate the details with the Comte de Dijon."
'And what will you do?"
"What a question, Pascal! You know that the Mandylion is not mine to give. Even if I wanted to deliver it over to my uncle, I could not. It belongs to the Church."