Pope Joan_ A Novel - Donna Woolfolk Cross [150]
“Take him away!” Sergius ordered.
“Where should we take him, Holiness?” Tarasius asked.
Sergius’s head was spinning; it was difficult to think. All he knew was that he had been betrayed, and he wanted to strike back, to wound as he himself had been wounded. “He’s a thief!” he said bitterly. “Let him be punished as a thief!”
“No!” Benedict shouted as the guards took hold of him. “Sergius! Brother!” The last word was left echoing as he was dragged from the hall.
The color drained from Sergius’s face, and he dropped into his chair. His head fell back, his eyes rolled, his arms and legs began to shake uncontrollably.
“It’s the evil eye!” someone shouted. “Benedict’s put a spell on him!” The guests cried out in consternation, crossing themselves against the workings of the Devil.
Joan raced through the crowded tables to Sergius’s side. His face was turning blue. She took hold of his head and pried his clenched jaws open. His tongue was folded back upon itself, blocking the airway. Grabbing a knife from the table, Joan inserted the blunt end into Sergius’s mouth, slipping it into the folded loop of tongue. Then she pulled. There was a sucking sound as the tongue flipped forward. Sergius gasped and began to breathe again. Joan pressed down gently with the knife, keeping the airway open. After a moment, the paroxysm subsided. With a muted groan, Sergius went limp.
“Take him to his bed,” she ordered. Several serving boys lifted Sergius from his chair and carried him toward the door as the crowd pressed round curiously. “Make way! Make way!” Joan shouted as they bore the unconscious Pope out of the hall.
BY THE time they reached his bedroom, Sergius was conscious. Joan gave him black mustard mixed with gentian to make him vomit. Afterward he was dramatically improved. She gave him a strong dose of colchicum, just to be safe, mixing in some poppy juice to help him rest soundly.
“He’ll sleep till morning,” she told Arighis.
Arighis nodded. “You look exhausted.”
“I am rather tired,” Joan admitted. It had been a long day, and she had not yet recovered fully from her weeks of confinement in the dungeon.
“Ennodius and others from the physicians’ society are waiting outside. They mean to interrogate you about His Holiness’s relapse.”
Joan sighed. She did not feel up to fending off a barrage of hostile questions, but apparently there was no help for it. Wearily she started for the door.
“Just a moment.” Arighis beckoned her to follow him. At the far side of the room, he moved aside one of the tapestries and pushed on the wall beneath. The wall slid sideways, leaving an opening some two and a half feet wide.
“What on earth?” Joan was astonished.
“A secret passage,” Arighis explained. “Built in the days of the pagan Emperors—in case they needed to make a quick escape from their enemies. Now it connects the papal bedroom to the private chapel, so the Apostolic One can enter and pray undisturbed any time of day or night. Come.” He took a candle and entered the passage. “This way you can avoid that pack of jackals, at least for tonight.”
Joan was touched that Arighis would share his knowledge of the secret passageway; it was a sign of the growing trust and respect between them. They descended a steep circular flight of stairs that leveled out before a wall into which was set a wooden lever. Arighis pulled it, and the wall moved aside, opening a passage. Joan slipped through, and the vicedominus pulled the lever again. The opening disappeared, leaving no trace of its existence.
She was behind one of the marble pillars in the rear of the Pope’s private chapel, the Sanctum Sanctorum. Voices sounded near the altar. This was unexpected; no one should be here at this hour of night.
“It’s been a long time, Anastasius,” one voice said in gruff, heavily accented tones she recognized as Lothar’s. He had called the other one Anastasius; that must be the Bishop of Castellum. The two men had obviously withdrawn to the chapel to speak privately. They would not look kindly upon an intruder.
What should I do? Joan wondered. If she tried