Sheen on the Silk - Anne Perry [68]
“I will give you herbs which will keep you safe from others’ suspicion, and perhaps ease the pain a little,” he offered.
She could only nod. In spite of his kindness, she felt humiliated and deeply afraid.
Twenty
WHEN ANNA NEXT VISITED CONSTANTINE, HIS SERVANT conducted her into the room with the icons, apparently unaware that Constantine himself was in the next room, deep in conversation with someone.
Anna walked to the farther end, hoping to be out of earshot, because whatever it concerned, confession or simply the arrangement of some ceremony, it was being said in the belief that it was private.
But as Constantine and the man walked slowly from the courtyard closer to the archway into the room, she could actually see the other man, whom she knew because she had once treated his mother. His name was Manuel Synopoulos; almost thirty, he was a rather brisk, confident young man of unusually plain appearance, but the family possessed great wealth, and he could at times be charming.
Now he pulled out of his dalmatica a soft leather pouch fat with coins and passed it to Constantine.
“For the feeding of the poor,” he said quietly.
Constantine’s reply was gentle, but there was a high, sharp note of excitement underneath it.
“Thank you. You are a good man and will be a noble addition to the Church, a great warrior in the cause of Christ.”
“A captain,” Synopoulos said, and as he turned he smiled.
Anna wouldn’t admit to herself what had happened. It could not be that Constantine had just sold an office in the Church in return for money, even though he gave it all to the poor and more besides, just as Synopoulos had directed.
Manuel Synopoulos was no more a worthy priest, a man of God, than any young man who studied nothing, bought his way out of his mistakes, and took his pleasures where he wished and as his right.
His family would be grateful, and as long as the Greek Church stayed independent of Rome, a high office would bring in even more wealth. But far above money was the pride and the respect.
When Constantine did come to her, he looked elated, his face a little flushed.
“I have just received a new donation to the poor. We are gathering strength, Anastasius. Men are repenting of their sins, confessing and putting the past away. They will not join Rome but will fight beside us for the truth.”
She forced an answering smile. “Good.”
He heard the effort in her voice. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” she lied, then knew he would not believe her. “It is simply that there is so far to go.”
“We are gaining allies all the time. Now the Synopoulos are with us, and the Skleros have always been.”
She wanted to ask at what cost, but she was not yet ready to challenge him. “I came about another matter, a patient I am concerned for….” And she addressed the cause of her visit.
He listened patiently, but it was clear to Anna that his mind was still in the exhilaration of his achievement.
Anna found Zoe in her bedroom, lying on the great bed. Its tightly laced sheep-fleece mattress was covered with further goose-down ones and then clean, embroidered linen. It was so soft, Zoe had sunk into the depths in great comfort; still, she was tired and bad-tempered. Her lungs were congested, and she complained that it kept her from sleeping. She blamed Helena for having brought the affliction into the house.
“Then she is ill, too,” Anna said. “I am sorry. Shall I take some herbs to her, also? Or does she prefer a … a more traditional physician?” It was a delicate way of asking if she would accept medicine rather than a priest’s treatment by prayer and confession.
Zoe laughed harshly. “Don’t mince words around me, Anastasius!” she snapped, sitting up a little farther against the pillows. “Helena is a coward. She will confess to anything trivial, and take the herbs if she likes them well enough, which I think you already know perfectly well. Isn’t that