Sheen on the Silk - Anne Perry [120]
Houses, churches, and monasteries were robbed of their treasures, chalices for the taking of the sacrament were used to swill the wine of drunkards, icons were used as gaming boards, jewels were gouged out and gold and silver melted down. The monuments of antiquity that had been revered down the centuries were looted and broken, imperial tombs, even that of Constantine the Great, were stripped, and the corpse of Justinian the Lawgiver desecrated. Nuns were raped.
In the Hagia Sophia itself, soldiers smashed the altar and stripped the sanctuary of its silver and gold. Horses and mules were brought in to be loaded with the spoil, and their hooves slid in the blood on the marble floors.
A prostitute danced on the throne of the patriarch and sang obscene songs.
The treasure stolen was said to be worth four hundred thousand silver marks, four times as much as the cost of the entire fleet. The doge of Venice, Enrico Dandolo, personally took fifty thousand marks.
That was not all. The four great gilded bronze horses had been stolen and now adorned the Cathedral of St. Mark in Venice. Enrico Dandolo had chosen the bronze horses. He also took the vial containing drops of the blood of Christ, the icon encased in gold that Constantine the Great had carried with him into battle, a part of the head of John the Baptist, and a nail from the Cross.
Last and perhaps worst, there was the Shroud of Christ.
The loss of all these was far more than sacrilege of holy things, it was an alteration of the character of the whole city, as if its heart had been ripped out.
Pilgrims, travelers, the lifeblood of exchange, commerce, the trade of the world, now no longer came here. They went to Venice or Rome. Constantinople grieved in poverty, like a beggar at the gates of Europe. Zoe stood with her hands clenched till her bones ached and there was blood on her palms. If Giuliano died a thousand times over, it would not be enough to pay for that. There would never be mercy, only blood and more blood.
Thirty-nine
FOR ZOE CHRYSAPHES TO INQUIRE WAS EXCELLENT, BUT it was not all that Giuliano could do. He also looked in the other quarters of the city for people who knew which families had gone where during the long exile. It had to be done in the time he did not need for his duties to Venice. Toward the end of the month Zoe had set for his return, Giuliano visited the hill from which Anastasius had said he could see in every direction.
It was not difficult to find the exact place, and the view was as spectacular as described. It was also sheltered from the west wind, and there was a balm in the air. Vines below him were in flower and sent up a perfume, delicate and sweet. It was some time before he realized it was the softness of the waning light on the sea that reminded him of home. He looked up, narrowing his eyes, and the small, rippled clouds, like the scales of a fish, were the same also, and mares’ tails shredding in gossamer to the northeast, fanning the sun’s rays into a skeletal hand.
The following evening he returned, and this time Anastasius was there. The physician turned and smiled but did not speak for several minutes, as if the sea spread before them were eloquent enough.
“It is a perfect place,” Giuliano said at last. “But perhaps it would be wrong for any one person to possess it.”
Anastasius smiled. “I hadn’t thought of that. You are right, it should be here for everyone who can see, and no oaf who can’t.” Then he shook his head. “That’s too harsh. I have been dealing with fools all day, and I am short-tempered. I’m sorry.”
Giuliano was oddly pleased to find him fallible. He had been a trifle daunting before, although he realized it only now. He found himself smiling. “Did you know a family named Agallon in Nicea?” He asked the question before considering it.
Anastasius thought for a moment. “I remember my father mentioning a name like that. He treated many people.”
“He was a physician also?” he asked.
Anastasius looked out across the water. “Yes. He taught me most of what I know.