Sheen on the Silk - Anne Perry [182]
“This tells me nothing,” Nicholas said dryly. “Who obtained it? You?”
“Yes, Holy Father.”
“And what did Vicenze do about it? Don’t tell me this is his revenge for your superiority? He could never have done this to himself. The laughter will follow him to the grave, as well you know.” He leaned forward. “This looks a great deal more like your wit, Enrico. For which I shall pardon you …” The faintest twitch pulled the corner of his mouth, and with difficulty he controlled it. “If you return the icon of the Virgin to me forthwith. Discreetly, of course.”
Nicholas might not have a towering faith with a light to lead Christendom, but he unquestionably had a sharp sense of humor, and to Palombara that was a grace sufficient to redeem him from almost any other failure.
“Is it still in Constantinople?” Nicholas asked.
“I don’t know, Holy Father, but I doubt it,” Palombara replied. “I think Michael was honest.”
“Do you? Then I am inclined to accept that,” Nicholas said thoughtfully. “You are a cynical man. You manipulate others, so you expect them to do the same to you.” He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t look so crushed! So where is the icon, whoever has it? I do not require to know, if such knowledge would be embarrassing.”
“My guess would be Venice,” Palombara replied. “The captain who brought Vicenze and the icon to Rome was a Venetian—Giuliano Dandolo.”
“Ah! Yes, I have heard of him. A descendant of the great doge,” Nicholas said quietly. “How very interesting.” He smiled. “When you return to Constantinople you will take a letter for me, in which I shall thank the emperor Michael for his gift of good faith and assure him that the union is regarded with the utmost gravity and honor by Rome.” He looked at Palombara steadily. “You will return to Byzantium, taking Vicenze with you.”
Palombara was horrified at the thought.
Nicholas saw his distress and chose to ignore it. “I do not want him here in Rome. I quite see that you do not want him, either, but I am pope, Enrico, and you are not—at least not yet. Take Vicenze. You still have work to do there. Charles of Anjou will sail, and then it will be too late to stop him. Perhaps you can find some Byzantine friend who will curb his excesses for you. Godspeed.”
Palombara had no choice but to leave the reclaiming of the icon to Nicholas. If Dandolo had any sense, he would yield it easily enough. God knows, Venice had relics to spare. And to steal from the pope, and thus from the heart of the Church, was a dangerous thing to do.
Possibly Dandolo might present it to the Holy Father himself, with any claim he could think of as to how it had come into his possession. Nicholas might be inclined to forgive him for it and pretend to believe any tale of its adventures.
Seventy-one
DURING THE VOYAGE BACK TO CONSTANTINOPLE, Palombara and Vicenze had barely spoken to each other, and then only in a bitterly civil manner, as was necessary in front of the sailors. It deceived no one.
Now Palombara went to the one person who had the power and the means to destroy a papal legate. He needed to convince her of the need.
Zoe welcomed him with interest, her curiosity sharpened. However, he was not blind to the hatred in her eyes, the hunger to hurt him because he was the one who had persuaded Michael to give the icon of the Virgin to Rome.
Instead of telling her that he too believed in the need for Byzantium to survive, with its values and its civilization, he told her of the shipping of the icon. He described his own fury as he saw Vicenze in the stern of the ship, waving at him. He touched briefly on his seemingly endless voyage in pursuit, but only for dramatic effect. Then in detail, drawing it out, he told her of the unveiling, the moment of incredulity, and then in much freer detail than he would have to any other woman, he described the picture, and the cardinal’s horror, the pope’s laughter, and Vicenze’s incandescent rage.
She laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks.