Sheen on the Silk - Anne Perry [156]
His face was filled with a sadness she did not understand.
“Who were the conspirators, apart from Justinian and Antoninus?”
She said nothing. She could not prove it, and in spite of what they had planned to do, it seemed such a betrayal to tell him. He would have to act. They would be arrested, tortured. Horrible pictures filled her imagination: Zoe stripped, humiliated, her body mocked and perhaps touched with fire again. And she could not prove it anyway.
“I did not think you would tell me,” Nicephoras said. “I might have been disappointed if you had. Justinian would not either, nor Antoninus.” His voice dropped even lower and was rough with pain. “Even under torture.”
She stared at him, new terror gripping her like a clenched fist inside her stomach, tightening.
“Is he …” She forced the words out between dry lips. She remembered John Lascaris’s blind face. Justinian … it was almost more than she could bear.
“We did not maim him.” Perhaps without meaning to, Nicephoras was taking part of the blame himself. He was the emperor’s man. “Justinian could not tell us that they wouldn’t try again. Can you?”
She thought about it, struggling, twisting this way and that in her mind, finding no escape. “No,” she said at last.
“What is Justinian Lascaris to you that you risk so much to save him?” he asked.
She felt the blood hot in her face. “We are related.”
“Closely?” he said in little more than a whisper. “Brother? Husband?”
It was as if time stopped, frozen between one heartbeat and the next. He knew. It was perfectly clear in his face. To deny it would be idiotic.
He waited, his eyes so gentle that it made the tears spill over onto her cheeks for the shame of her deceit. Would he think her disguise mocked him? She kept her eyes down, unable to look at him and hating herself.
“My twin,” she whispered.
“Anastasia Lascaris?”
“Anna,” she corrected him, as if that tiny piece of honesty mattered. “Zarides now. I’m a widow.”
“Whoever the other conspirators are, they are still dangerous,” he warned. “I believe you know who they are. One of them betrayed Justinian, I don’t know which, and if I did, I would not tell you, for your own sake. They would betray you just as quickly.”
“I know—” The words caught in her throat. “Thank you.”
“By the way, you should lengthen your stride a little. You still take short steps, like a woman. Otherwise you are pretty good.”
She nodded, unable to speak, then turned slowly and walked away, her mind numb, finding it hard to keep her balance. She would have to correct her walk some other time.
Fifty-seven
A WEEK LATER, ANNA HAD JUST SEEN HER LAST PATIENT OF the morning and was standing in the kitchen when Leo brought her a letter from Zoe Chrysaphes.
Dear Anastasia,
I have just received news of a most important matter concerning the true faith which we both espouse. I need to inform you of the details as soon as possible. Please regard this as urgent, and call upon me today.
Zoe
The blurred writing of her name, using the feminine rather than masculine, was a veiled reminder to Anna of Zoe’s power over her. She dared not refuse.
There was no decision to make. “I have to call on Zoe Chrysaphes.” She did not want to frighten Leo by telling him that Zoe knew her secret. “It is something to do with the Church. It should be interesting.”
But interest was the emotion furthest from her mind when she was shown into Zoe’s room. The fear and the loss in their previous encounter seemed to close in on her as if she could never escape it. She felt as though Giuliano must be just out of the line of her sight, and any moment he would move and she would see the pain in his face.
Zoe came forward superbly, head high, back straight. The deep blue-gray silk of her tunic swirled around her ankles, unbroken by gold ornament, simple as the dusk sky.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” she said. “I have remarkable news, but before I tell