Her breath was ragged. “You could have told anyone you wished to that she was being poisoned.”
“You destroyed her with your sanctimonious silence as surely as if you’d poisoned her yourself,” he sneered. “She might as well be dead.”
“Because she didn’t marry John Kalamanos?” she said. “If he loved her, he would believe what she said and marry her anyway.”
Georgios lunged forward and struck Anna across the side of the face, sending her sprawling backward, arms flailing. She caught her left hand on the edge of a small table, and pain shot through her arm. He reached for her, pulling her up by the front of her tunic, and hit her again. She could hardly get her breath for the fear that seemed to paralyze her. She was dizzy and could taste blood. She knew he was going to go on beating her. Any moment her clothes would rip and expose the padding and her breasts. Then it wouldn’t matter if he killed her or not, it would all be ended anyway.
The next time he came forward, she managed to roll over sideways, away from him, and reached for the small stool half under the table. His blow landed on her shoulder, numbing her arm. She grasped the stool with her other hand and swung it back toward his face as hard as she could.
She heard him roar with surprise and pain. Then there was a scream that was not hers-and surely was too high-pitched to be his?
There were other people in the room, more shouting and banging, the heavy thud of bone against flesh, and bodies swaying and lashing, weight hitting the floor, finally heavy breathing and no more movement. She was half-blinded and all she could feel was her own pain.
Someone reached for her and she clenched, trying to think how to strike back. She would have only one chance.
But the hands were gentle, lifting her up. A cold, wet cloth touched the throbbing wound in her cheek and jaw. She opened her eyes and saw a man’s face, someone she knew, but she could not think from where.
“Nothing is broken,” he said with a rueful smile. “I am sorry. We should have been here sooner.”
Why could she not remember him? He put the wet cloth to her face again. There was blood on it.
“Who are you?” She wanted to shake her head, but with the slightest movement pain shot through her like a knife blade.
“My name is Sabas,” he replied. “But I expect you have never heard it.”
“Sabas…” It meant nothing.
“Zoe Chrysaphes was afraid for you,” he said. “She knew that Georgios Vatatzes had a violent temper, and overbearing family pride.”
Her breath caught in her throat, all but choking her. “Had?”
Sabas shrugged. “I am afraid he attacked us also, and in order to subdue him, it was necessary…” He left the sentence unfinished.
She sat up a little farther and looked past him. Georgios lay on the floor, blood on his face and his head at an angle that made it clear his neck was broken. Another man stood by him.
“Don’t worry,” Sabas said hastily. “We’ll take him away. Perhaps you should say a burglar attacked you. If anyone asks, you frightened him off.”
She laughed abruptly, close to hysteria. “Well, if they look at me, and reckon I made an even worse mess of him, no one will try to rob me again.”
Sabas smiled, softening the hard lines of his face. “Bought at a high price, but a good thing.” He helped her to stand, guiding her to a chair. “Can your own servants assist you, or would you like us to send for another physician?”
“They can assist me, thank you,” she replied. “Would you be kind enough to thank Zoe Chrysaphes for her concern, and your courage? If ever you need any help, it is yours, or your friend’s.”
He bowed, and then the two of them picked up Georgios and carried him out, leaving Simonis to come in, her face blanched with shock. While she did what she could to clean Anna’s cuts and apply ointment to the bruises, Anna’s mind raced. She should have known Georgios Vatatzes would take his sister’s rejection badly. Or was it more complex than that?
Bessarion’s murder again, old fear, old vengeance? And how had Zoe’s servants known what to expect and from whom? The answer to that was only too obvious, once Anna faced the facts. Zoe had poisoned Maria, knowing it would ruin the family and intending it to. She had sent Sabas and his fellow servant, not so much to rescue Anna as to make certain that Georgios was killed.
But what had they done to earn Zoe’s hatred to such a depth?
Thirty-six
WHEN ANASTASIUS WAS SHOWN INTO ZOE’S magnificent room, the physician was clearly angry, but quietly so, his eyes hard as stones on the shore. He looked appalling; his face was swollen and dark with bruises, and he limped. He dropped herbs on the table as if she had ordered them, but presumably they were to explain to the servants why he was here.
“What are they?” Zoe inquired with interest, as if she had no concern at his appearance, no sudden welling up of fear that he was really hurt.
“The antidote to the poison you used on Maria Vatatzes,” Anastasius replied icily. “I brought it so that you know I have it, and other antidotes. And that Arsenios knows I have it.”
Zoe raised her eyebrows. “It seems to have taken you rather a long time to find it. I assume you learned nothing about Bessarion’s death from Georgios, before he attacked you? Unfortunately you will learn nothing now.”
Temper flared in Anastasius’s eyes. “It won’t take so long if it happens again,” he retorted, entirely ignoring the question about Georgios and Bessarion’s death. “Because I shall know where to look. Of course, should you be the victim, that would be different. You might find it yourself first, if you are well enough to get out of bed.”
Zoe was stunned. Was he threatening her? “How ungrateful of you, Anastasius. After I had the forethought to send Sabas to your rescue.” She regarded him up and down carefully. “You look awful. Not that I doubted Sabas, he never lies.”
Anastasius’s face tightened. “He told the truth. Had he not come, I would be dead. Were I not grateful for that, I would have made it public that you had poisoned Maria. I know that from the flower seller, and she will say nothing, but if harm comes to her, then I will speak. You can’t poison everyone. But in case you have a mind to, Arsenios is perfectly aware that it was you who destroyed his daughter, and who caused his son to be killed in disgrace. I have no idea why you hate him, but he knows, and has taken steps to protect himself.”
“You’re threatening me!” Zoe said in amazement. Perversely, she was pleased.
“That amuses you?” Anastasius said, disgust twisting his mouth. “It shouldn’t. People are at their most dangerous when they have nothing left to lose. If you hate Arsenios, you should have left him something worth surviving to save. That was a mistake.” He turned and walked out, still limping, but with dignity.
Of course, the question of allowing Arsenios to continue spreading the rumors was settled. Zoe could not. She must deal with him, but the question was how?
Again, poison was the obvious weapon. It was her supreme skill. Of course, Arsenios would never take food or drink from her, even in a public place. She would have to find another way to administer it.
Another hundred candles to the Virgin.
She selected the poison carefully, something to which there was no antidote. It had no color and no odor, and it acted rapidly enough that Arsenios would have no chance to call for help or to attack her before he was incapacitated. It was ideal. This would look like a hemorrhage. No one would ever trace it back to her, either from its nature or because she was known to have purchased it. She had possessed it for years and had never needed it until now.