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Duke Nikolaos of Larissa, dark hair whipped by the wind, was riding like a demon into the mêlée on the Palace polo field when he realised his manservant Elias had returned and was waiting for him by the sea wall. Reining in sharply, Nikolaos wheeled Hermes about and spurred away from the action.
‘Devil take you, Niko! What are you playing at?’ a team-mate cried, with scant regard for formality, as the ball hurtled across the turf. Duke Nikolaos was General of the Athanatoi Cavalry and Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Army, but he had made it clear that in this practice session, he was playing with friends. He was not on his warhorse today. Hermes was small and light-boned. Hermes was built for speed.
‘Niko.’ Another player leaned out of the saddle and took a wild swipe at the ball flying beneath his horse’s hooves. Missing the ball, the man righted himself with difficulty.
‘Damn you, Niko,’ he bawled, as his general trotted from the field.
Nikolaos swung his mallet over one shoulder and grinned. ‘A thousand apologies, I have business to attend to. In any case, I fear the girth is going on this saddle.’
A chorus of shouts and groans went up. ‘We’re a man short.’
‘Curse it, Niko, you can’t retreat mid-game.’
‘Keep practising,’ Niko said. ‘There’s less than a month before the tournament—the tournament, I remind you, that the Athanatoi shall win.’ He gestured at a lad standing with the reserve horses on the edge of the field. ‘Zeno?’
‘General?’
‘Take my place, will you?’
The boy’s eyes lit up and he vaulted on to the back of one of the horses. ‘Gladly. Thank you, my lord.’
‘It’s your first time in the field, isn’t it, Zeno?’
‘Yes, General.’
‘It looks like a game and so it is. But one word of warning, it’s a ruthless one. Take no prisoners. Those miscreants …’ with a grin, Nikolaos jerked his head at the men he had assigned to the opposite team ‘… will show you no mercy. Remember that, and there’s a chance you will keep your seat.’
‘Yes, General.’
Nikolaos swung from the saddle, tossing the reins to Elias. His stallion’s brown coat was flecked with foam. ‘You delivered my message?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Elias looked troubled. One of the reasons Nikolaos had kept Elias as his manservant for so long was that he never dissembled or lied to him. And that, as Nikolaos had learned, was a rare and precious quality. ‘Don’t tell me, the Princess is still ailing?’
‘Apparently so, my lord.’
A cypress at the edge of the polo ground was swaying slightly in the onshore breeze. Nikolaos scowled at it. ‘That’s twice I’ve sent messages to her apartment. I take it you saw no sign of her this time either?’
It had occurred to Nikolaos that Princess Theodora might be hiding from him, but that would seem absurd. She was an Imperial princess and the former Emperor, the man who had married her aunt, had approved their marriage.
She could not have taken a dislike to me, since we have never met.
Elias was shaking his head. ‘Not as much as a glimpse, my lord. All I saw was a handful of maidservants and a guard assigned to her apartment. Other than that her chambers were quiet.’
Nikolaos tapped his thigh with his mallet. ‘You left my message with the guard, I take it?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘What regiment was he?’
‘Varangian.’
Nikolaos grunted. ‘Should be reliable. Did you get the man’s name and rank?’
‘Kari. A trooper.’
‘Very well. My patience is wearing thin, but I shall give the Princess till this afternoon to respond. And then, if she continues to ignore my existence, I will have to speak to His Imperial Majesty. Our betrothal was made at the behest of his predecessor. Perhaps Emperor Alexios has decided he has other plans for her.’
Removing his gloves, Nikolaos tucked them thoughtfully into his belt. He could not decide whether Princess Theodora’s illness was genuine or whether it was an excuse designed to keep him at a distance. Nikolaos wanted this marriage. He had seen other men’s careers blighted by innuendo and rumour and he was determined that was not going to happen to him. Marriage with an Imperial princess was a great honour, it would bolster his position at Court. Was it possible that Emperor Alexios had changed his mind?
Turning his back on the polo field and the turreted wall that protected the Great Palace from both sea and invasion, Nikolaos began walking towards the stables. Elias and Hermes kept pace. ‘It is odd, though,’ Nikolaos said, raking a hand through windswept brown hair, ‘you would think that His Majesty would have mentioned any concerns he has over my marriage arrangements when I was asked to organise the polo tournament.’
‘Didn’t he confirm that your marriage was to go ahead shortly after he was crowned?’
‘He did, he did indeed. Why, then, is the Princess so elusive?’
‘I do not know, my lord. Perhaps she really is unwell.’
‘Or a reluctant bride,’ Nikolaos said. ‘Think about it. First, she refused to return to Constantinople when the old emperor summoned her from Rascia, and when she does return, she hides away like a nun.’
‘You should give her the benefit of the doubt—she could really be unwell, my lord.’
Nikolaos gave Elias a straight look; he and his manservant had been together since Nikolaos was a boy and there was a strong bond of affection between them. Nikolaos could discuss anything with him. Nikolaos’s gut tightened—well, almost anything. ‘I have been giving her the benefit of the doubt for some days,’ he said, drily. ‘It occurs to me that Princess Theodora has no wish to marry.’
‘You cannot assume that, my lord.’
‘True. I am ready for this wedding to take place, Elias, but if my bride is reluctant?’ Nikolaos grimaced. ‘Lord, no.’
Nikolaos wanted this marriage. It would signal to the world that he was firmly ensconced with the new regime. And he wanted it soon, before anyone else got wind of his mother’s unexpected confession.
Iam illegitimate.
The man Nikolaos had always thought of as his father was the late Governor of Larissa, Governor Gregorios. But according to his mother, Lady Verina, Gregorios was not his father. Nikolaos had received his mother’s confession as something of a body blow; her marriage to Gregorios of Larissa had seemed blissfully happy. They had been the perfect, loving couple with Governor Gregorios idolising his wife. And Nikolaos would have sworn the affection had not been one-sided, his mother had given every appearance of adoring her husband in return. The intense grief she had displayed at his death could not have been mere pretence. And yet …
Iam illegitimate. I have no blood ties with Governor Gregorios.
Dear God, better men than he had their careers wrecked because of their birth. That would not happen to him.
‘Will you ask His Majesty for another bride, my lord?’
‘I may have to, if Princess Theodora continues to show reluctance.’ Nikolaos sighed and ran his hand round the back of the neck. In view of his mother’s confession, he needed this marriage more than ever, but … a reluctant bride? No.
‘Your mother will be disappointed. She was delighted when you were chosen for the Princess.’
Nikolaos felt his face stiffen, it was hard to keep the anger from his voice. ‘Naturally my mother would be pleased. Such a marriage would appease her conscience, if she has one.’
Elias frowned. ‘You have had a disagreement with Lady Verina?’
Nikolaos let out a bitter laugh. ‘You might put it like that.’
‘My lord, I thought—’
Nikolaos silenced Elias with a look. ‘Yes, old friend, you are right. My mother was delighted. I never thought we’d hear the end of it. But I will not marry a reluctant bride, however highborn.’
‘Duke Nikolaos?’
‘Mmm?’
‘If the Princess continues hiding away, will you ask Emperor Alexios to release her from the betrothal?’
Hermes clattered across the paving stones as they passed through a fountained courtyard. Water jetted from the mouths of a shoal of bronze fish; rainbows shimmered in the spray. ‘I am undecided. It was the previous Emperor who gifted her to me. If Princess Theodora really does prove reluctant, it should be easy enough to persuade His Majesty to give me another bride.’ He smiled at Elias. ‘I shall give the Princess until this afternoon to respond. Come, let’s get to the stables, Hermes needs a rubdown and that girth needs checking.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
That afternoon, Elias carried a third message to Princess Theodora’s apartment in the Boukoleon Palace. When he came away, he knew exactly where to find his master. Duke Nikolaos had told him he would be in one of the saddlers’ workshops outside the Palace walls.
The saddlers’ workshops were clustered together in a narrow street that cut away from the Mese—Middle Street—the main street of the City. Sure enough, Hercules, the Duke’s black warhorse, was tethered outside, next to an animal usually assigned to one of the grooms. Entering the workshop, Elias nodded at the groom and leaned against a wall to wait for the Duke to conclude his business.
‘But, General—’ the saddler’s voice was high and tight, his fingers shook as he examined the girth ‘—it is not as though you take this saddle into battle.’
Nikolaos shook his head. ‘You should not underestimate the rigours of the polo field, it’s an important part of training for my officers. Use stronger leather next time. Look—’ he pulled at the offending strap ‘—see here?’
‘That’s a natural flaw, General, part of the animal’s skin. You can’t avoid natural flaws.’
‘Nonsense! Even an untrained eye could see that this section of leather is weak. It should have been discarded. It has no place in a saddle of this quality—of any quality, come to think of it. Serious injuries can be caused by workmanship like this. If it happens again, I shall take my custom elsewhere. And I shall certainly ensure that the officers in my regiment know to avoid your merchandise. That said, I am sure you’ll put it right …’
‘Yes, General.’ The saddler flushed dark red. ‘My apologies, it shall not happen again.’
Nodding at the man, Nikolaos stepped back into the street and smiled at Elias. ‘Well? I can tell from your face that you had no luck at the Princess’s apartment.’
‘No, my lord. This afternoon she is apparently a little recovered, but there is no message for you.’
Nikolaos tucked his thumbs into his belt. ‘Does the total lack of response strike you as odd, Elias?’ The Princess might be reluctant, but surely she would have to be gravely ill to ignore so many messages from the man to whom she had been betrothed?
‘My lord?’
The skin was prickling at the back of Nikolaos’s neck. It was the sort of prickling he usually had on the eve of battle. His instincts were trying to warn him … of what? Danger. Danger to him? No, he did not sense that the danger was to him. To the Princess? That did not seem possible, yet his instincts had not let him down before.
He looked at the groom. ‘My thanks, Paul, that is all. I shall walk back. Take Hercules back to his stall, would you? Elias, you are with me.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Something’s wrong,’ Nikolaos murmured, once the groom had taken the horses and was well out of earshot. He followed the route the groom had taken, turning into the street that led past the Hippodrome, back to the Palace.
‘I agree,’ Elias said. ‘It seems extraordinary that after sending several messages, you have received no response from Princess Theodora.’
The walls of the Palace loomed over them. ‘The former Emperor appeared keen, even eager, to promote my marriage to Princess Theodora,’ Nikolaos murmured, thinking aloud.
Elias, probably realising that this remark did not require a response, said nothing.
Nikolaos let his thoughts run on, thoughts which he was well aware a few weeks ago would have bordered on treasonous. He had not held the previous Emperor in high regard. Emperor Nikephoros had been weak and ineffective—unscrupulous courtiers had wasted no time in manipulating him. With little strength of will, and almost no understanding of military matters, the man had made a disastrous head of state. Which was why Nikolaos had supported Alexios Komnenos in his bid for the throne. The Empire needed a strong hand at the reins.
With regard to his marriage to Princess Theodora, Nikolaos had been led to believe that Emperor Alexios would honour the arrangement made by his predecessor.
The guards at the Palace gate jumped to attention, saluting as they passed through and entered the first of the courtyards.
‘What will you do, my lord?’
‘I have had enough of delays and evasions.’ Nikolaos grinned at Elias. ‘I shall visit the Princess’s apartment myself.’
Elias flung him a startled look. ‘You would go to the women’s quarters in person, my lord?’
Nikolaos lifted his shoulders. ‘Why not?’
Elias began to splutter. ‘But, my lord, you cannot … not the women’s quarters! They … they are sacrosanct … only a close relative may enter … and the Princess … a cousin of the Empress …’
Smiling, Nikolaos waited for his manservant to stutter to a halt which he did, with a final ‘My lord, you cannot visit the women’s quarters, particularly not those of the Princess.’
Nikolaos sighed. ‘Elias, these days it is almost impossible to gain an audience with His Majesty. Ever since the coronation, he has either been deeply involved in affairs of state, or else he is doing penance for seizing the throne.’
‘I had heard about the penance. Forty days of fasting and sackcloth and ashes.’ Elias pulled a face. ‘How much of the penance is left?’
‘A little over three weeks. The polo tournament comes towards the end of it. Until then, it is possible to arrange an audience with His Majesty only for the most pressing of matters. I must resolve the question of my marriage myself.’ Niko gestured ahead of him. ‘Lead on, Elias, I am hazy about which staircase leads where in the Boukoleon.’
‘My lord, you do recall that Princess Theodora’s apartment is watched over by Varangian Guards?’
Nikolaos lifted a brow. ‘I remember. And I am sure they have sworn allegiance to Emperor Alexios and are as loyal as they have always been. As I am. May I remind you that my own regiment supported His Majesty? I doubt I will be questioned.’
‘Yes, my lord, I know. But … but … she is a princess.’
By now Nikolaos and Elias had left several courtyards behind them and had passed the stables and the lighthouse. An imposing building rose before them, with walls like cliffs. The Boukoleon Palace. On the upper levels, Nikolaos could see the stone balustrades where terraces overlooked the gardens and courtyards. On the other side of the Boukoleon, the balconies looked out over the Sea of Marmara.
Nikolaos and Elias reached a columned portico where a broad flight of marble stairs led upwards. ‘The women’s quarters, Elias?’
His manservant’s throat worked. ‘This way, my lord.’
Some hours earlier, Theodora’s galley had docked at the Imperial harbour. By the time the sun began to sink, she and her entourage were busy exploring the Princess’s apartment at the top of the Boukoleon Palace.
It was a magnificent apartment and had been reduced to chaos by their arrival. Slaves and servants ran in and out of the great double doors, laden with packing cases and trinket boxes. Others bore ewers of water and linen cloths. Trays of refreshments were set out on side-tables for travel-worn ladies. There was something to suit all palates—goblets of wine; milk sweetened with honey; cold meats and soft cheeses; shelled hazelnuts, almond cakes, dates. The gleaming marble floor was hidden under untidy heaps of baggage; ladies’ cloaks were strewn over gilded chairs, across inlaid tables and painted screens. Braziers had been lit to lift the chill from the air; and there, on another side-table, perfumed smoke wreathed from a golden globe—roses and the rich scent of incense mingled with the slight tang of salt blown in from the sea.
The time had come for Theodora to end the deception. She must stop pretending to be a lady-in-waiting and become, once again, Princess Theodora Doukaina. The transition from lady-in-waiting to Princess would be tricky, though. There was much to take account of … sins both real and assumed.
‘It is time, Sophia,’ Theodora murmured as they stood in the light of a large window.
Martina was held fast in Sophia’s arms. Filmy purple drapes hung from ceiling to floor, silk hangings that shifted in the breeze coming off the Sea of Marmara. Imperial purple. Theodora bit her lip as guilt rushed through her. Theodora had not herself been ‘born in the purple’. This meant that she had not been born in the Purple Chamber, the great birthing room in the Palace that was lined with purple marble and set aside for the confinement of an Empress. Notwithstanding this, she had been allocated this wonderful apartment decorated with the Imperial purple. It was a great honour.
It is an honour I do not deserve, I was not born in the Purple Chamber. Worse, I have deceived everyone. Worse still, I have every intention of continuing to deceive them.
