Sheen on the Silk - Anne Perry [112]
Anna discovered the nature of the poison afflicting Maria Vatatzes—it was administered through the stems and leaves of the flowers that arrived fresh every few days in Maria’s room.
Maria was recovering, but it was too late to save her reputation from the whispers about her virtue. Her marriage to John Kalamanos was canceled. His family would no longer countenance it, and he yielded to their wishes.
Maria was devastated. Even though she was almost in full health again, she threw herself onto her bed and sobbed. There was nothing Anna could do to help. It was unjust, but there was no recourse.
Anna had not been long home after what was her final visit to Maria when Simonis came in to say that there was a gentleman to see her. It was after dark, and Leo was still out on an errand. Anna could see the anxiety in Simonis’s face.
Anna smiled. “Show him in, please. I expect he has some matter to discuss which is urgent, if he calls at this hour.”
Georgios Vatatzes entered in a towering rage. His face was flushed and he stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him with Simonis barely through it.
Anna squared her shoulders and stood as tall as she could, but she was still several inches shorter than him and half his weight.
“Have you discovered something?” she said as stiffly as she could, but her voice wavered a little, giving her away. She sounded like a woman.
“No, I haven’t. In God’s name, what does it matter who poisoned her?” His voice was thick with rage. “The Kalamani have withdrawn their offer of marriage, as if our family were unclean. It stains all of us. They won’t remember it was some unknown poison, all they’ll think of was that the word went around Maria was a whore! You let the filthy gossips say whatever they wanted when you could have told them the truth.”
“You could have said it was poison,” she countered. “I was not free to.”
“Who’s going to believe us when you wouldn’t back us up?” He was drunk, slurring his words. “The poison worked, didn’t it? It didn’t kill her, but she might as well be dead.” He was standing so close to her that she could smell the acrid sweat on him and the odor of wine.
Her breath was ragged. “You could have told anyone you wished to that she was being poisoned.”
“You destroyed her with your sanctimonious silence as surely as if you’d poisoned her yourself,” he sneered. “She might as well be dead.”
“Because she didn’t marry John Kalamanos?” she said. “If he loved her, he would believe what she said and marry her anyway.”
Georgios lunged forward and struck Anna across the side of the face, sending her sprawling backward, arms flailing. She caught her left hand on the edge of a small table, and pain shot through her arm. He reached for her, pulling her up by the front of her tunic, and hit her again. She could hardly get her breath for the fear that seemed to paralyze her. She was dizzy and could taste blood. She knew he was going to go on beating her. Any moment her clothes would rip and expose the padding and her breasts. Then it wouldn’t matter if he killed her or not, it would all be ended anyway.
The next time he came forward, she managed to roll over sideways, away from him, and reached for the small stool half under the table. His blow landed on her shoulder, numbing her arm. She grasped the stool with her other hand and swung it back toward his face as hard as she could.
She heard him roar with surprise and pain. Then there was a scream that was not hers—and surely was too high-pitched to be his?
There were other people in the room, more shouting and banging, the heavy thud of bone against flesh, and bodies swaying and lashing, weight hitting the floor, finally heavy breathing and no more movement. She was half-blinded and all she could feel was her own pain.
Someone reached for her and she clenched, trying to think how to strike back. She would have only one chance.
But