Sheen on the Silk - Anne Perry [180]
She had been the most beautiful girl in the town. All the young men had wanted to court her. But it seemed she had chosen brash, charming Paulus, Constantine’s eldest brother.
Then suddenly, without anyone knowing the reason, she had turned away from him and wanted instead to be with Constantine. Theirs had been a pure friendship, asking nothing but understanding, the joy of sharing both beauty and pain, the exhilaration of ideas, and sometimes, on wonderful occasions, laughter.
She had wished to become a nun; she had confided that to him, softly, with a shy smile. But her family forced her to marry into a wealthy family with whom they had ties, and Constantine had never seen Maria again, nor had he ever learned what had happened to her.
She remained for him the ideal not only of womanhood, but of love itself. Now as Theodosia smiled at him in her quiet, grave way and offered him honey cakes and wine, he saw in her dark eyes something of Maria again, an echo of the same trust in him. A peace settled inside him so sweet, he began to find again the courage to fight harder, with new power, more belief.
It gave him the confidence to try a more dangerous path, one that repelled him, and yet in Theodosia’s piety and unquestioning devotion to the faith, he understood the necessity of using every weapon within his reach.
It was strange to visit Zoe’s house afterward. Constantine had no delusions that she welcomed him out of anything but an intense curiosity to know what he could want with her.
He had forgotten how striking she was. Although she was in her late seventies, still she walked with her head high and the same grace in her steps, the suppleness of body he remembered.
He greeted her cautiously, accepting hospitality in order to make it clear that he intended the visit to have meaning.
“You must be aware of the danger we are in, perhaps even more than I am,” he began. “The emperor sees it as so imminent that he has taken the icon of the Virgin which he carried in triumph and sent it to Rome. He told me that was to preserve it, should the city be burned again. But he has not told the people this. Presumably he is afraid of panic.”
“All times require care, my lord bishop,” she answered, although there was no belief or acceptance in her face. “We have many enemies.”
“We were preserved, in spite of the earthly strength of our enemies,” he replied, “because we believed. God cannot save us if we will not trust Him. We have an advocate in the Blessed Virgin. I know that you know this, which is why I came to you, even though we are not friends, and I do not trust you in most things, I admit that. But in your love of Byzantium, and of the Holy Church we both believe in, I trust you with my life.”
She smiled, as if some faint amusement overrode all that she heard in him, but her eyes were hot and still, and there was a color in her cheeks that owed nothing to art. Now was the time to tell her his purpose.
“I trust you because we have a common cause,” he said again. “And therefore common enemies in the powerful families who, for one reason or another, support the union.”
“What have you in mind, Your Grace—precisely?”
“Information, of course,” he replied. “You have weapons you cannot use, but I can. Now is the time, before it becomes too late.”
“Is it not already too late?” she said coolly. “We have had at least this much common purpose for years.”
“Because you will not part with the kind of information I want while it is still of more value to you,” he replied. “You cannot use it with impunity. I can.”
“Possibly. I can think of nothing I know which will enlarge the Kingdom of God.” There was a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “But perhaps you have more in mind than reduction of the realm of the devil?”
He felt a chill. “My enemy’s enemy is my friend,” he quoted.
“And which particular enemy are you referring to?” she asked.
“I have but one cause,” he replied. “The preservation of the Orthodox Church.”
“For which we need also to preserve the