She lowered her voice. “I fear for you. If someone would murder Bessarion, who was so much less effective than you are, might they not attempt to kill you also?”
His head jerked up, eyes wide. “Do you think so? Who would murder a bishop for preaching the word of God?”
She looked down at the table, then up at him again quickly. “If the emperor thought Bessarion was going to make union with Rome more difficult, and so endanger the city, might not he himself have had Bessarion killed?”
Twice Constantine started to speak and then stopped again.
Had he really not thought of it? Or was it that he knew it was not true, because he knew what was? “That is what I was afraid of.” She nodded as if it were confirmed. “Please be very careful. You are our best leader, our only honest hope. What will we do if you are killed? There would be despair, and it might end in the sort of violence that would be not only the ruin of the city, and any chance of unity within ourselves, but think of what it would do to the souls of those involved, who would be so stained by sin. They would die without absolution, because who would there be to offer it to them?”
He was still staring at her, appalled at what she had said.
“I must continue,” he said. His body was shaking, his face suffused with color. “The emperor and all who advise him, the new patriarch, have forgotten the culture we have inherited, the ancient learning that disciplines the mind and the soul. They would sacrifice all of it for physical survival under the dominion of Rome with its superstitions, its gaudy saints, and its easy answers. Their creed is violence and opportunism, the selling of indulgences for more and more money. They are the barbarians of the heart.” He looked at her as if at this moment it were almost a physical need within him that she understand.
It made her uncomfortable, embarrassed by the intimacy of it. She could think of nothing to say that was even remotely adequate.
His voice was thin with pain when he spoke again. “Anastasius, tell me, what use is it to survive if we are no longer ourselves, but something dirtier and infinitely smaller? What is our generation worth if we betray all that our forebears loved and died for?”
“Nothing,” she said simply. “But be careful. Someone murdered Bessarion for leading the cause against Rome, and made it look as if Justinian were to blame. And you say he felt equally strongly.” She leaned forward again. “If that was not the reason, then what was?”
He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “You are right, there is no other.”
“Then please take care,” she said again. “We have powerful enemies.”
“We need powerful people on our side.” He nodded slowly, as if it were she who had pointed it out. “The rich and the noble of the old families, the people others will listen to, before it’s too late.”
Anna felt her stomach tighten and her hands grow slick with the sweat of fear.
“Zoe Chrysaphes could be such a person,” he said thoughtfully. “She has much influence. She is close to the Comneni, as well as to the emperor. She would do things for Byzantium that many others would not.” He nodded his head slightly, the shadow of a smile on his lips. “If I make her see that an act has the Virgin’s blessing, then she will do it. And there is also Theodosia Skleros and all her family. They have great wealth, and they are all devout, she most of all. I have but to preach, and she will obey.” His eyes were bright and he leaned closer toward her. “You are right, Anastasius, there is great hope, if we have the courage and the faith to seize it. Thank you. You give me heart.”
Anna felt the first stab of doubt, fine as a needle. Could holiness use such shadowed means and remain pure? The torches burned in their stands, and there was no wind, no sound outside, but suddenly she was colder.
Anna was still troubled with doubts and aware of the tensions in the city. She had warned Constantine of the personal dangers to him because she needed to raise the subject of Bessarion’s murder, but some of her fear for him was real. And she also knew that by asking questions, she drew attention to herself. There was no question of stopping her inquiry, but she took more care about walking alone, even though to everyone else she appeared to be a eunuch, and there was nothing lacking of propriety in going wherever she chose. But when called out late, after dark, which happened only rarely at this time of year with the short summer nights, she took Leo with her.
With all she had used in her own practice, and the extra needed for assisting the poor, she was running short of herbs. It was time she replenished her supply.
She walked down the hill to the dockside in the warm light, the sun still well above the hills to the west, the breeze blowing and smelling a little salt. She had to wait only twenty minutes, listening to the shouts and laughter of fishermen, before a water taxi came, and she shared it with a couple of other passengers going across the Golden Horn to Galata.
She relaxed in the taxi; the slight rocking of the boat and the steady slap of the water were soothing, and the other passengers seemed to feel the same. They smiled but did not disturb the evening with unnecessary conversation.
Avram Shachar welcomed her as always, taking her into the back room with its shelves and cupboards full of supplies.
She made her purchases and then was happy to accept his invitation to stay and dine with his family. They ate well, then the two of them sat in the small garden late into the evening, discussing some of the physicians of the past, especially Maimonides, the great Jewish physician and philosopher who had died in Egypt the same year the crusaders had stormed Constantinople.
“He is something of a hero to me,” Shachar said. “He also wrote a guide to the entire Mishnah, in Arabic. He was born in Spain, you know.”
“Not Arabia?” she asked.
“No, no. His name was really Moses ben Maimon, but he had to flee when the Muslim overlord, Almohades, gave people no choice except to convert to Islam or be put to death.”
Anna shivered. “They’re to the south and to the west of us. And they seem to be getting more powerful all the time.”
Shachar made a gesture of dismissal. “There is enough evil and pain to fight today, don’t look for tomorrow’s. Now tell me about your medicine.”
It was with pleasure and some surprise that she realized he was interested in her growing practice. She found herself answering his questions about her treatment of Michael, although she was discreet enough to say only that she was afraid for him because of the anger among the people regarding the union with Rome.
“That is something of an honor for you to attend him,” he said gravely, but he looked more anxious than happy.
“It was Zoe Chrysaphes’s recommendation that earned it,” she assured him.
“Ah… Zoe Chrysaphes.” He leaned forward. “Tell her nothing you do not have to. While I know her only by repute, I cannot afford to be ignorant of where the power lies. I am a Jew in a Christian city. You would do well to be careful also, my friend. Do not assume that everything is as it seems.”
Why did he warn her? Surely she had been discreet enough with her inquiries. “I’m Byzantine, and Orthodox Christian,” she said aloud.