He pulled as hard as he could, digging the oars deep. He must pull evenly. Tear a muscle now and he would burn with them. He must get away, then back to shore. Were Giuseppe and Stefano all right? Had they the strength to make shore? He should have told Giuseppe, out in the middle of the bay, to make for the farther shore, not try to beat against the wind back to the east.
No, that was stupid; he wouldn’t have to be told!
The light was growing stronger as the ship in the middle of the bay burned more strongly. The canvas of the furled sails was on fire. Then the Greek fire in the hold exploded, white hot, like the heart of a furnace. Pieces of flaming debris were sent high into the air. Giuliano leaned on the oars and caught his breath for a moment as a streamer of flame shot into the sky and landed on another ship, catching immediately on the dry wood. Other pieces fell into the sea. He stared at the beauty and horror as one ship after another burned until the whole bay was an inferno like the floor of some visionary hell.
Another ship with Greek fire exploded, sending debris soaring into the air. The roar of it was deafening, and the heat seared Giuliano’s skin even as far away as he was.
A blazing plank of wood splashed into the water only a few feet from him. Galvanized into action, he grasped the oars and threw his body against the weight of them, sending the boat hurtling forward.
Fifteen minutes later, he reached the eastern shore a hundred feet from where he had set out and stood to watch as one of the warships listed and dropped lower in the water.
By morning, there would be little left of Charles’s fleet. The fact that Giuliano, a Venetian, had lit the fire that destroyed it was perhaps some small measure of redemption for Venice from its ravage of Byzantium seventy years ago.
He turned slowly and made his way toward the town. He could see his way quite clearly in the light of the flames. They roared up into the sky, casting a glare over the drifting wreckage, the water of the bay now showing brazen between the jagged black skeletons of the ruined ships. It lit the fronts of the houses red and yellow, and as Giuliano came closer to the buildings, he could see their windows, brilliant panes of flat gold in the darker stones.
People were crowding out to watch in amazement and horror at the sight. Some clung to each other as each new explosion filled the air with sound and fury. Others stood paralyzed, unbelieving.
Giuliano increased his pace, striding out. Giuseppe and Stefano would go back into the hills, up toward Etna, where the servants of Charles’s men would never find them, but he needed to go to Byzantium. He must carry the news.
The massive buttresses of Mategriffon towered above him, men on the battlements staring into the inferno on the sea, their faces lit like effigies of copper. Giuliano looked up and for a moment saw Charles himself, his features twisted with rage and the dawning understanding of what had happened to the precious dreams of his lifetime.
For an instant he looked down, perhaps saw something familiar in Giuliano’s stride or the dark outline of his figure as he passed a wall, pale in the reflected light. Charles stiffened with recognition.
Giuliano lifted his arm in a salute. In spite of his weariness and the ache in his body, he quickened his pace. He must be gone before archers could be summoned or soldiers called to hunt him down.
Ninety-six
ZOE WAS DEAD, AND AFTER THE DEATHS OF CONSTANTINE and Palombara, Anna felt a new constriction and grief even tighter inside her. The fear in the city increased as people waited for more immediate news of the invasion. Rumors spread like brushfire, leaping from street to street, growing more distorted with each new telling.
People hoarded food, weapons; those near the walls stored pitch to light and pour on the enemy when they came. Every day more people left, a constant bleeding away of those who had the means to travel and somewhere to go. As always, the poor, the old, and the sick remained.
Fishermen still went out, but they stayed close to the shore and were in by nightfall, boats moored or pulled up the beach, guards on watch against theft.
Anna still treated the sick and found among them more injuries due to the clumsiness of fear and carelessness because muscles were clenched, attention divided, people sleepless with the constant watching and listening for news of disaster.
She could give some relief for the physical distress, but the reality of what lay ahead she could not treat. It was only by being constantly concerned with the small duties she could perform that she could ignore the greater truths.
There were few she cared for personally now. Nicephoras would stay as long as the emperor did. For them to run away was unthinkable. She spoke also to Leo.
“When the crusader fleet arrives, it will be too late,” she said quietly to Leo one evening after a supper of fish and vegetables. “We have done all we could for Justinian. I can look after myself. I will feel better if I know you are safe.”
Leo put down his fork and looked at her with eyes filled with reproof. “Is that what you expect of me?” he asked.
She looked down at her plate. “I care about you, Leo. I want you to be safe. I shall feel a terrible guilt if you suffer because I have brought you here.”
“I came willingly,” he told her.
She looked up, meeting his eyes. “All right, then I shall feel a bitter grief if something happens to you!”
“And Simonis?” he asked quietly. She still came two or three times a week, but she chose times when Anna was out. It was almost as if she watched the street and waited for the opportunity.
In his face, Anna saw compassion and anxiety and felt ashamed that she had not thought of his loneliness before now. He and Simonis had lived and worked in the same house all their adult lives. They had differed over many things, and he deplored what she had said to Anna over Justinian. He had always thought her favoring of Justinian was wrong but owned that his of Anna was just as much at fault. Leo must miss Simonis, even the familiarity of their quarrels. More than that, he was now afraid for her.
“I’m sorry,” Anna said quietly. “If there is an invasion… when… she should be with us. Please ask her if she will come back…” She stopped.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Unless she is safer where she is,” Anna finished the thought.
Leo shook his head. “Safety is being with your own people. When you are old, it is better to die with your family than escape and live with strangers.”
Without warning, tears filled Anna’s eyes. “Ask her… please.”
Simonis came back three days later, nervous, defiant, determined that Anna should speak first. Anna was startled by how much thinner she was, the bruised look in her face. It had been months, but she seemed weary, as if her joints were stiff.
Anna had planned what to say to Simonis, but now that she saw a lonely old woman who had lost everyone she loved, the prepared words vanished.