Siege of Heaven da-3 Page 6

  I had not changed my tunic or trimmed my beard in almost a fortnight of marching and fighting in the August sun. I had not washed, nor mended the tears and burns our ordeals had left in my clothing. In any company I would have felt filthy and disgusting: here, I felt like a dung-beetle rolling its ball on a banquet table. Too late, I remembered I should probably have bowed, though my back and my pride were both too stiff to allow it.

  ‘If you have been the emperor’s only representative these last four months, it is no wonder our situation is so desperate.’

  The words were spoken with immaculate condescension, but their effect was like a kick in the groin. Fortunately, I was too weary to retaliate in anger. Instead, I looked blankly at the man who had addressed me. Both he and his companion were dressed in long white robes, trimmed with heavy embroidery and studded with coloured stones. There the similarity ended: the man on the left, who had spoken, was tall and strongly built; he kept his hair in studied disorder, and his face would have been handsome but for its arrogance. Only his beard seemed out of place, recently grown and not yet thickened to its fullness, like an adolescent who has not yet summoned the courage to shave, or a guilty man trying to hide his appearance. His companion, by contrast, was slight and clean-shaven, with thinning hair and a permanently worried expression tightening his soft features. I guessed he must be a eunuch. In their company you could believe that the courtyards and fountains of the palace were just beyond the door, not a thousand miles away across mountains and desert.

  ‘Has the emperor sent you?’ I asked.

  The larger man drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. ‘I am Nikephoros.’ He nodded to the eunuch beside him. ‘This is Phokas. We arrived from Constantinople a week ago. Where have you been?’

  Evidently I did not merit pleasantries. ‘At the monastery of Ravendan, in the mountains north of here.’

  Someone must surely have told him as much already, but he affected indignant surprise. ‘What folly took you there?’

  ‘A terrible folly.’ I guessed he did not want to hear the whole ordeal, that its filthy details would bore his refined sensibilities. I told him anyway.

  ‘It was a trap,’ I concluded. ‘Set by Duke Godfrey in concert with the Armenian brigands. Tancred was there too.’

  My voice died away. The two envoys stared at me, their faces as flat and all-powerful as the saints in the icons around them.

  ‘You are sure it was Duke Godfrey?’ the eunuch, Phokas, asked at last. His voice was high, though not shrill, pitched in that indeterminate range between a man’s and a woman’s.

  ‘I stood as far from him as I am from you now.’

  That did not impress Nikephoros. ‘It was a fool’s errand anyway. What did you mean by going to Ravendan?’

  ‘I was trying to defend the church’s interests — and the emperor’s. I did not know that his so-called allies would use the opportunity to try and kill us.’

  ‘It hardly matters.’ Acid disdain etched his voice. ‘Though it is a pity you lost the emperor’s seal that was entrusted to you. He will not be pleased.’

  Had I been half my age, I would have broken his nose for his snide dismissal of our sacrifices. As it was, the cowardice of wisdom stilled my hand — but I could not keep all the heat from my voice. ‘Six days ago I watched Duke Godfrey and Tancred mutilate the survivors of the battle and leave them to die on a mountaintop. They would have done worse to us, if Pakrad’s greed had not spoiled their plan.’

  ‘Perhaps you have spent too long with the barbarians — what else did you expect from them? This does not change anything.’

  ‘Four of the emperor’s men are dead. Does that change nothing?’

  ‘You cannot cleanse your mistakes by washing them in your friends’ blood,’ Nikephoros retorted coolly. ‘Do you really think the empire’s interests have changed because — you say — a Frankish lord took against you? The emperor does not put down his hunting dogs just because they snap at his slaves.’

  An agonising rage gripped me. I clenched my fists and dug my long nails into the palms of my hands trying to force a pain excruciating enough to match the pain in my heart. But the harder I pressed, the less I felt.

  The eunuch must have seen my anguish. ‘Do not blame yourself too much. You were swimming in seas too strong for you. You did not have the wit to see what should be done.’

  I stared at him, wondering if he had poked my wounds in malice or just in clumsy kindness. His polished face revealed nothing.

  ‘Have you come to replace me?’ I asked at last. The audience had barely begun, but I already longed for it to be over.

  Nikephoros leaned forward in his chair. ‘We have come to supersede you. The emperor has placed you under our command.’

  His words struck me like arrows. ‘I thought. .’ I wanted. ‘I understood I was to go home, once you had arrived.’

  The eunuch spoke. ‘Go home? You cannot go home. You have not finished.’

  ‘Finished what?’

  ‘Your mission was to see that the Franks reached Jerusalem — not settled themselves in Antioch.’

  Nikephoros picked up the thread. ‘That is why your expedition to Ravendan was worthless, even before it proved to be a trap. The emperor does not want relics and trinkets to make the Franks love the Greeks.’ Suddenly animated, he thumped his fist on the arm of his chair. ‘He wants Antioch itself. For its strength, its commerce, its harbours and its lands — yes. But most of all because it is his by right, and the Franks swore to return it to him. If we wanted it owned by a rabble of hateful, godless barbarians, we could have left it to the Turks. The Franks will have Jerusalem, that will be their reward. But Antioch must be ours. That is why it would not matter if Duke Godfrey, Count Raymond and all the Frankish captains hung you from a tree and let the birds devour you inch by inch. The emperor would still smile, and pay them flattery and gold, and pray they dislodged Bohemond from Antioch.’

  His smooth neck was suddenly lumpen with taut sinews, and his head jerked with emphasis on every word. The diplomatic reserve seemed stripped away, though I could not tell if that was a calculated effect. Nor did I care. I was still numb from the sting of what the eunuch had said. You cannot go home.

  ‘I must go home,’ I mumbled, pathetic and uncaring. ‘I cannot stay here.’

  Nikephoros gave me a scornful look. ‘Go home — and then what? You will not have the comfortable life you imagine in Constantinople if you return now. The emperor is furious that the Franks hold Antioch. He is famously quick to forgive his enemies, but he does not lightly forgive those who fail him.’

  ‘How have I failed him? Was I supposed to hold Antioch against the Franks with a few dozen Varangians and the force of an oath the Franks never meant to uphold?’

  Nikephoros rolled his eyes. ‘Do you know Pythagoras? With a stave and sufficient distance, a single man can move a boulder that would resist the strength of armies.’

  ‘Then why does he want me to stay?’ Like a prisoner broken on the rack, I suddenly felt a disgraceful willingness to say anything, to admit any charge and suffer any insult just to go free. I hated myself for it — but I hated the thought of staying more.

  The eunuch leaned forward. ‘Because he is merciful.’

  Craven desperation kept me from laughing in his face, though my disbelief must have shone through.

  ‘Your superior, the general Tatikios, made a full report to the emperor after he left Antioch,’ the eunuch continued. ‘He left little doubt where the blame for the Franks’ success should lie.’

  I had suffered so many blows to my hopes and pride that I should have been immune, but I still felt the bruise in my gut. ‘He blamed me?’

  ‘Suffice it to say the emperor felt it would be kinder to you to give you a chance to redeem yourself, rather than allowing your return.’

  ‘But surely he must know-’

  The eunuch raised a sanctimonious hand, as if pushing me back from an unseen precipice. ‘The emperor can only know
what his subordinates tell him. Tatikios is a great nobleman: he has many allies at court to support him.’

  And I did not. I had seen the emperor many times and inhabited his palace, had saved his life and once or twice even spoken with him almost as an equal. I did not think him a bad man, for what such judgements were worth. But he had not survived eighteen years on his tenuous throne by bowing to sentiment. If Tatikios commanded a faction — and legions to boot — then the emperor could not antagonise him on my account. Perhaps he truly did believe it was kindness to keep me away from Constantinople.

  ‘If the Franks leave Antioch, there will be no problem and no blame to be attached,’ the eunuch concluded. ‘The only lever we have to prise them out is Jerusalem. We must see that they get there.’

  I bowed my head, as if putting it through a noose. ‘How?’

  Nikephoros barked orders to his slaves, who scurried from behind the gauzy curtains and brought a map, a table and a low wooden stool for me to sit on. After so long marching, its hard seat was like a feather mattress to me. Lamps were set beside the unscrolled map, flickering over the ragged oblong of the Mediterranean Sea and the three continents that bordered it to the north, south and east. Nikephoros pulled a golden pin from his robes and leaned forward, tapping the pin against the map to illustrate his narration.

  ‘Antioch is here.’ Tap. ‘Jerusalem here.’ Tap. ‘The lands in between — Syria, Lebanon, Palestine — are controlled by the Turks and Saracens.’ The point of the pin scratched back and forth over the Mediterranean’s eastern coast. ‘They are weakened by the Franks’ victory at Antioch, but they still have castles and fortified cities all along the coast.’ A succession of pinpricks perforated the paper between Antioch and Jerusalem. ‘And, of course, they have Jerusalem.’

  That much I knew. Far stranger was the sensation of seeing the canvas of my life laid out before me, my past and future journeys drawn in inky lines. Too often, my eyes drifted north and west to the ornately painted cross at the junction of Europe and Asia. Constantinople.

  ‘But beyond Palestine, the Turks and Saracens face an older enemy. The Fatimids of Egypt.’ The pin inscribed a circle in the south-eastern corner of the Mediterranean, centred on the cobweb of lines that marked the course of the Nile. ‘You know the Fatimids?’

  I had heard of them, but ignorance was easiest. I shook my head.

  ‘The Saracens consider them heretics — if there can be a heresy against a heresy — and hate them above all others. Once, they drove the Fatimids out of their kingdoms all the way to Libya, but the Fatimids regrouped, invaded Egypt and conquered it. They will not be content until they have imposed their faith all the way to Baghdad and Mecca. The Saracens, likewise, will not rest until they have destroyed the Fatimids.’

  I had been drawn into the invisible, eternal quarrel between the different Ishmaelite creeds once before, and the wounds had only recently healed. Even without Constantinople tempting me home, I did not like the sound of this.

  ‘If we can make an alliance with the Fatimids, then the Saracens will be trapped between enemies to their north and south. We can squeeze them out of Palestine and the way will be open for the Franks to seize Jerusalem. When they hurry south to claim it, Antioch will be ours again. The stain of your incompetence will be wiped clean.’

  Whatever bitterness I felt at the jibe, I swallowed it. ‘And how will we achieve that?’

  In answer, Nikephoros jammed the golden pin into the map, at the place where the different strands of the Nile delta braided themselves into a single thread heading south into Africa. The pin stuck in the wooden table and stayed upright, its trembling shadow crossing over Egypt and almost touching Jerusalem.

  ‘That is the Fatimid capital, al-Qahira. That is where we must go.’

  8

  I came out of the tent in a daze, like a defeated soldier leaving a battle. My soul was falling through an endless chasm, and though it was sickening it did not hurt yet. That would come when I hit the bottom. For now, I wandered across the hill until I found the Varangians’ tents. Aelfric was there.

  ‘How is Sigurd?’ I asked, forcing the words through my constricted lungs.

  ‘Unchanged. The fever seems a little less.’

  ‘Has Anna seen him?’

  Aelfric fixed me with his uncompromising blue eyes. ‘She isn’t here.’

  My tumbling soul knocked against a looming cliff, careered off it and continued its descent. ‘Where is she?’

  Aelfric turned his eyes away, looking over my shoulder and into the darkening east.

  ‘In the cloisters behind the cathedral.’

  I stared at him.

  ‘In Antioch.’

  I ran.

  Whatever excesses I had expected from the plague city — baying mobs hunting through the streets, doomed men and women tupping like dogs in doorways, corpses burning on open fires or lying unburied at the roadside — the reality was different. Moonlight washed over empty streets, and most of the houses were dark — though the city was not empty. Unseen creatures scuffled in shadowy corners. Shutters creaked, doors slammed, clay vessels shattered and steel rang on steel. And, more than anything else, there was a constant tapestry of mourning that hung in the background: soft moans of despair, shrieks of anguish, plaintive sobbing and quiet prayer. A profound and angry melancholy gripped the city — it was like walking through the sinews of a broken heart.

  At several points along my way, carts and boxes and rubble had been tipped across the street to form makeshift barricades. Some were abandoned, others guarded, but Antioch was not a city made for containment and I always found my way around them, until at last I reached the cathedral and a small door in the wall behind it. A frightened voice behind the door answered my knock.

  ‘I want to see the doctor — Anna. Is she here?’

  ‘She’s asleep.’

  ‘Wake her. Tell her Demetrios is here.’

  He did not answer, but beyond the door I heard receding footsteps. I waited in the dark for what seemed an age, each second lengthened tenfold by uncertainty. Eventually I even started to probe the tip of Aelfric’s knife into the door jamb, wondering if I could force it.

  I heard the footsteps returning and pulled the knife away. A bolt slid back on the other side of the door, though it did not open.

  ‘Wait here for a hundred-count, then come through. She will be in the cloisters.’

  Once more, the footsteps retreated. I doubted the delay was necessary, but I honoured the doorkeeper’s request and counted to a hundred as quickly as I could. Then I pushed the door open, padded down a short passage and emerged into the broad colonnades of the cloisters. Moonlight shone onto the columns’ faces so that they appeared like steel bars around the square, while behind them all was darkness. On the far side, directly opposite me, stood Anna.

  She was thinner than I remembered, though we had been apart less than two weeks. In the hot summer air her white shift clung to her body, divulging every rise and shadow beneath: her dark hair was tousled wild by her pillow. She appeared like an icon of everything I loved and craved; I pulled off the cloth that covered my face and ran towards her.

  ‘Stop.’

  A large figure stepped out of the darkness behind her, levelling a silver-tipped spear towards me. Desperation almost overpowered my instinct for survival, but at the last I reined myself in and halted just short of the spear’s point.

  ‘Stay there,’ the figure ordered.

  I stared at Anna, bewildered. Why did she not come forward? ‘What is this?’

  She closed her eyes. ‘My guard.’

  ‘Against what? Me?’

  ‘No — he is protecting you.’

  ‘Against what?’

  ‘Against me.’

  I stumbled back, though the guard’s spear had not moved. There were hot tears on my face.

  ‘What could you possibly do to me?’ Even as I spoke the question, I began to guess its answer, and dread it.

  Anna folded
her hands penitently before her. She was crying too: the moon caught her tears and scarred her cheeks silver.

  ‘I have become a plague doctor.’

  The last spark of hope died in my soul. A voice that was hardly my own asked, ‘Have you. .?’

  ‘Have I caught the plague?’ Anna shook her head. ‘God willing, not yet.’

  I gestured to the guard. ‘Then why is he here?’

  ‘They insisted on it.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The Franks. They would not let me tend the sick without a guard to make sure I didn’t touch the healthy.’

  ‘You volunteered for this?’

  She gave a joyless laugh. ‘Do you really think I’m such a saint? I had no choice. The woman I went to see the day you left, the one whose baby was overdue — she was infected. She was almost dead when I found her — the baby, too. The Franks barred the doors and would not let anyone leave the house. They only allowed me out when I agreed to tend the other victims. Then I came here.’

  Anna’s guard had moved around to my left, standing between us and a little way apart with his spear outstretched, while she and I faced each other across the cloistered square. I needed an iron grip over every muscle in my body not to run to her and embrace her, heedless of consequence.

  In a firmer voice, she asked, ‘Did you find your relic?’

  ‘There was no relic. Ravendan was a trap. The monk attacked us and took us prisoner.’ With the guard watching, I did not mention Duke Godfrey’s part. At that moment, it hardly seemed to matter. ‘We only just escaped.’

  ‘Is Sigurd all right?’

  ‘Barely.’ I saw Anna gasp. ‘He suffered a blow to the head, and has not risen since. He has a fever. You must see him.’

  ‘What can I do?’ She opened her empty hands. ‘I cannot leave this cloister, much less the city.’