Thomais was waiting for her to give the order.
“Send Sabas to wait outside the door,” Zoe told her. “I doubt His Grace will continue with such ill manners, but if he does, I would like you and Sabas to be within call.”
Thomais obeyed. Constantine came in and shut the door, almost catching the end of his tunic between it and the jamb.
“You seem to have lost control of yourself,” Zoe observed coolly. “I would offer you wine, but you appear to have had more than sufficient already. What is it you wish?”
“You have betrayed the Orthodox Church,” he replied through clenched teeth, the muscles of his smooth, beardless jaw bulging.
Theodosia Skleros would have told him. No doubt she had asked absolution again for the sins of her brothers.
Constantine’s eyes glittered with a fanatic anger, and there was sweat beading his skin. “You have foresworn all that you professed to believe and broken the covenants of your baptism.” His voice trembled. “You have abandoned the faith, blasphemed God and the Holy Virgin, and you are excommunicated from the fellowship of Christ. You are no longer one of us.” He flung out his arm, fingers pointing at her almost as if he would jab her. “You are denied the body and blood of Christ. Your sins are upon your own head, and in the Day of Judgment He will not atone for you. The Holy Virgin will not intercede for you before God, her prayers will not speak your name, nor will she hear your words at the hour of your death. Among the company of saints, you no longer exist.”
She stared at him. It could not be true. He was standing in the light, alone, the rest of the room blurring around him so she could not see it. There was a strange, fuzzy sound in her ears. She tried to speak, to tell him he was wrong, but she could not find any words, and the pain in her head was unbearable.
She put up her hands to block it out, and then suddenly she was on the floor. Darkness and light splintered into each other in total and incomprehensible silence. Then nothing at all.
Constantine had expected her to be terrified. Zoe had committed the ultimate sin. But he had not thought that she would be so affected that she would be struck speechless and fall to the ground unable to move.
He looked where she lay, her eyes half-open but apparently sightless. Was she dead? He moved closer and stared. He could see her chest rise and fall with her breathing. No, he had not killed her. Better than that, she was sightless and dumb, but still alive to know it.
Victory soared up inside him, as if he were suddenly without weight. He turned on his heel and walked to the door. He pulled it open and saw the servants standing in a huddle. He drew in his breath and let it out slowly. “Be warned,” he said, measuring each word. “The Holy Church of Christ will not be mocked. Your mistress made light of her oaths and betrayed her promises. I have delivered God’s message to her, and He has struck her down.” He gestured behind him to where Zoe lay. “Call a physician if you wish, but he cannot undo the work of God, and he would be a fool to try.”
Eighty-eight
ANNA HAD BEEN SENT FOR AND ACCOMPANIED THE white-faced messenger to Zoe’s home. Sabas was waiting for her and took her immediately to where Zoe was lying on her bed, Thomais at her side, her face impassive.
“Bishop Constantine excommunicated her from the Church,” Sabas informed Anna. “God has stricken her, but still she lives. Please help her.”
Anna moved forward and looked down at Zoe. Her tunic was crumpled and she lay awkwardly, as if placed there by someone who dared not touch her with any more intimacy. Her eyes were almost closed, but she was breathing quite regularly. Without thinking, Anna smoothed Zoe’s dress over her stomach and thighs, then she felt her pulse. It was weak but quite regular.
“Is it not the bishop’s doing?” Thomais asked.
Anna hesitated. Constantine would not have poisoned her or struck her. He might have frightened her into an apoplectic fit if he had invoked the deep terror inside her of the punishment of God, the abandonment of all light and hope.
She touched Zoe’s hand, gently. It was warm. She was not dead or even dying. “We must not let her get cold. And put a little ointment on her lips to stop them drying. I will fetch herbs and come back.”
Thomais stared at her, her face filled with doubt, perhaps fear.
“God may have struck her,” Anna said gently. “If He takes her life, that is His judgment. It’s not mine.”
She did all she could for Zoe, waiting and watching to see if her condition changed. On the fifth night, she was sitting in the corner of Zoe’s room next to a painted and inlaid screen, half asleep. The room was almost dark. One small candle burned on the table about seven feet from Zoe, just enough to see her outline, not enough to shine on her face.
She still had not opened her eyes or stirred more than to move one hand a few inches. Anna did not know if she ever would again. Thinking of the destruction Zoe had caused, Anna should have been glad. It confused her that she felt instead a sense of loss and a troubling pity.
She was almost asleep when she was suddenly, terrifyingly aware that there was someone else in the room. He was moving soundlessly, no more than a shadow passing across the floor. He couldn’t be a servant or he would have spoken.
She froze, her breath caught in her throat. She watched as he crept toward the bed, a small man, dressed not in a tunic but a shirt and britches. He had a pointed beard, and as he came closer to Zoe the candlelight touched his face and she saw that he had sharp features, thin and clever. His hands were empty.
Her mind raced. She knew from the awkward way the man’s jacket lay over his hip that he had a knife at his belt, and Zoe was defenseless. If Anna called out, there was no one near enough to hear or come in time to help. Anna herself would be dead before then.
She must move silently or the intruder would hear her and strike, probably Zoe first and then her. She had nothing near her, no heavy bowl, no candlestick. But there was the tapestry. If she threw that over him, it might confuse him for long enough to reach for the candlestick on the table.
“Zoe,” he said quietly. “Zoe!”
Could he not see she was not asleep but senseless? No, thank God the candle was small and far enough from her that her face was in the shadow.
“Zoe!” he said more urgently. “It is going well. Sicily is like a tinderbox. One spark, one wrong word or move, and it will burn like a forest fire. Dandolo has worked well, but he has just about served our purposes. Give me the word, and I’ll kill him myself. One quick thrust and it will be over. I’ll use the Dandolo dagger you gave him.” He gave a low, soft laugh. “Then he’ll know the message of death comes from you.”
Anna broke out in a sweat. Whatever happened, she must not move or make the slightest sound. If he knew she was here, he would kill her, too. Her nose itched. Her mouth was dry. Still the intruder sat silently by Zoe’s side.
Then she heard a footstep outside the door, a brief knock, and the door opened. The intruder moved toward the tapestry like a shadow.
Anna turned as the door swung open and Thomais entered. Only then did Anna see, in the widening light, that one of the windows was not fastened.
Anna stirred, as if just waking up. “I’ll come and get a little wine,” she said sleepily to Thomais. “Can you find me some cakes? I’m hungry.”
Anna walked over to the door, not even glancing at the shadow beyond Zoe’s bed where the intruder had melted into the corner. He would not hurt Zoe, and if Anna was out of the room for a few minutes, he would leave as he must have come, through the window into the night.