The Towers of Samarcand (51 page)

‘The Lord of the Seven Climes intends to take Smyrna, as he said he would, then go to Chios. He has reflected on the Varangian’s advice and wishes to meet the Emperor Manuel and other Christian kings there. He asks you to arrange it.’

She lowered the curtain too quickly to see the delight on Pir Mohammed’s face. They would make peace with the western Kings and then go home. She didn’t see the Prince turn to his cousin and say: ‘Let’s play chess.’

*

The city of Smyrna was said to be impregnable.

Certainly the defenders thought so. Two hundred Knights Hospitaller under the command of the Aragonese General Iñigo of Alfaro had declined the offer of surrender begged from Tamerlane by his Nestorian advisers. For sixty years their walls had stood firm against every assault by the Turk and they would not open their gates to an illiterate barbarian now. Anyway, they had Greek fire supplied to them by an engineer from Chios who, they’d have been surprised to learn, was somewhere within Tamerlane’s army.

It was December and the first snows had fallen on the mountains to the north and the gulf on which the city sat was moiling with wind-clipped waves. It had rained without cease since the army had arrived and the Mongols, miserable, wet and cold, were yearning ever more for home. Their only enjoyment had been the daily spectacle of Bayezid dragged out
in his cage to watch them attempt what he’d failed to do: wipe this last Christian outpost from the lands of the Prophet.

The city stood high on a rocky outcrop which extended into the gulf and could only be taken by a two-pronged attack by land and sea. Tamerlane soon saw that the walls were weakest on the seaward side and ordered platforms to be built across the water, supported by sunken columns, so cutting off the city from the shore. Benedo Barbi’s covered alleyways, never used at Ankara, were rolled up to the city walls and the fires lit. Meanwhile, the cannon captured from Bayezid were hauled into position on the land side.

After fifteen days, breaches appeared in the walls and they began to fall. The Mongols rushed over them with no thought of mercy in their minds. The men and children of the city were cut down where they stood, the women raped, then slaughtered.

The Hospitallers had sent reinforcements from Rhodes but they’d arrived too late. As the fleet rowed up the gulf, with the city of Smyrna smoking before them, the sky was suddenly filled with comets trailing blood in their wake. A moment later, the two hundred heads of Smyrna’s defenders thudded on to the decks around them. The Hospitallers turned about and rowed for home.

Smyrna had fallen.

*

On Chios, the signori were angry with the Knights.

Dominic de Alamania of their Order had brought his fleet to the island from Rhodes and demanded that the Hospitaller fleet be allowed to revictual there before sailing on to Smyrna. The signori, who now included Dimitri among their number, had had no choice but to agree. So it was in some trepidation
that the twelve Genoese and one Greek awaited Tamerlane in the palace of Marchese Longo in the citadel at Chora. The days had been long and nerve-racking and their only relief had been the charm and beauty of their leader’s wife and son.

Giovanni Giustiniani Longo was five years old and had his mother’s hair. He was tall for his age and would be taller than his father. He was an intelligent child who already spoke three languages, could recite Homer and found amusement in mathematics. And in the hours of pacing the long marble corridors of the palace, the signori would distract themselves by trying to satisfy the boy’s endless curiosity.

The signori were further distracted by the arrival on Chios of the Byzantine Emperor Manuel II Palaiologos, the philosopher Plethon and King Sigismund of Hungary, who’d brought Anna Laskaris with him. After delivering her letters, Anna had stayed at Sigismund’s court and watched with satisfaction as the letters had done their work: a new crusade had been called with both Popes persuaded to back it.

The King of Hungary, like Manuel, had chosen to obey Tamerlane’s summons, the consequences of refusal outweighing the dangers of acceptance. Their arrivals, and the imminent coming of Tamerlane, had brought about the departure of Fiorenza and Giovanni for their home in Sklavia. It was safer for them there, closer to the port of Limenas. They would be missed.

Now Anna was seated on a balcony that overlooked the big throne room, watching the men below wait for Tamerlane to arrive. Manuel stood next to Plethon who stood next to Sigismund of Hungary. Behind were the signori, each trying to forget the stories of horror that had accompanied every move of the man they were about to meet. At their front was the
handsome Marchese Giustiniani Longo, a man she’d met only the day before. She wished she’d met his wife as well, to admire her beauty and thank her for the many kindnesses she’d shown to Luke.

At last there were footsteps on the marble outside, quick footsteps that stopped outside the door. There was a long pause and from far away came the sound of something being dragged. Anna felt cold.

Tamerlane. Temur the Lame
.

Closer it came, agonisingly slowly. Anna stared at the doors and the Genoese at each other, every man searching for reassurance or just memorising a face they might not see again. The doors were flung open by two soldiers of the gautchin, their pigtails swinging above golden cuirasses as they knelt. As Tamerlane entered, thirty knees hit the marble floor as one. Only the Emperor Manuel and King Sigismund remained standing.

Tamerlane was wearing a tall, pumpkin-domed hat with a heron feather clasped to it and a short-sleeved tunic of brushed silk gathered at the waist by several belts. Above was an over-garment edged in ermine and below short riding boots with mud on them. On his hands were hawking gloves covered with filth. His clothes were wet with rain and the smell of damp came with him.

‘You would not kneel?’ he asked, approaching the Byzantine Emperor.

Manuel inclined his head. ‘We are both emperors, lord. And I am not yet your vassal.’

Tamerlane looked at him for a moment, then glanced at Sigismund, breathing deeply. He was not wearing his glasses and the men before him were vague. He turned to the rest
of the room. ‘Which of you dogs sent the fleet to relieve the crusaders at Smyrna? I know it sailed from here.’

Marchese Longo answered him. ‘The fleet came from Rhodes, lord. It took on provisions at our harbour against our wishes.’

Tamerlane limped over to him. ‘Indeed?’ he asked, his face bent close to Longo’s and his rancid breath between them. ‘And you did not think to stop it? Are you not part of the Byzantine Empire which allied itself to me against Bayezid?’

Anna looked down on a room full of men, not one of whom expected to see sunset. The man who had reduced cities to rubble was walking among them talking of betrayal. Tamerlane stepped back from Longo and clapped his hands. There were more footsteps from the corridor and two men came in, each carrying a chair. Tamerlane sat, lifted a hand, and one of the gautchin drew his sword, walked forward, and gave it to him.

Above them, Anna gasped. Zoe had walked into the room. She was dressed as a Mongol princess in a high-collared silk tunic of red, her hair plaited. She looked neither to left nor right but went straight to the other chair and sat down. Tamerlane took her hand.

Anna felt faint. Zoe
here
? She was supposed to be in Edirne, but she was below her holding the hand of a monster. She heard Tamerlane speaking again and forced herself to listen.

‘I have heard what Bayezid did after Nicopolis,’ he was saying. ‘Blind old men with swords.’ He paused. ‘Thanks to you Italians, I can now see.’ He took his glasses from a sleeve and put them on. ‘Now, who is to be first?’

Marchese Longo rose to his feet. ‘If anyone here is to die, it should be I,’ he said quietly. ‘I alone bear responsibility for the revictualling of the Hospitaller fleet. The rest are innocent.’

Tamerlane stared at him. Then he leant forward in his chair,
still holding Zoe’s hand. He said: ‘Did you know my mother was a Christian, Genoese? Of the Nestorian persuasion?’

Anna’s hands were holding the balcony and they were trembling. This was the man who had had his cavalry ride down Christian children before Damascus when they’d come out to plead for their lives. And beside him sat the most evil woman she knew. She drew back so as not to be seen.

‘There is no mercy in Islam,’ Tamerlane continued, shaking his head. He brushed dirt from his glove. ‘But in Jesus Christ …’ He leant forward again and blew his nose to the floor through finger and thumb, covering the effect with his boot. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and clicked his fingers. ‘In Jesus Christ there is mercy.’ He made the sign of the cross with his gloved hand and frowned. ‘Anyway, it pleases me to be merciful. Especially since men from your island have done me some service. The three Varangians who are with me and the engineer are released from their oath.’ He let go of Zoe’s hand and rose to his feet. ‘I have decided to give you the monopoly to sell mastic throughout my empire. So you have it. Get up.’

The signori did nothing at first, too stunned to move. Then, one by one, they rose.

‘And alum,’ went on Tamerlane. ‘You can have that too.’

Longo spoke. ‘Lord, your generosity—’

But Tamerlane suddenly wanted to be somewhere else. He leant forward and tapped Longo on the head with his finger. ‘Stop. I have honey enough in my tent.’ He straightened and addressed the men in the room. ‘There is a condition. I give your island to the woman who will be my next wife.’ He turned and gestured to Zoe, still seated. ‘She knows trade and will be a wise ruler. She will come to rule over you when I am dead.’

The signori exchanged glances but none of them spoke. Was Chios now his island? The Emperor Manuel and Sigismund were still standing. ‘What of us, majesty?’ asked the Emperor. ‘King Sigismund and I have come far to hear your plans. Have you nothing to tell us?’

Tamerlane thought for a while. Then he said to Manuel: ‘It pleases me to marry this lady in your Church of Holy Wisdom in the city of Constantinople. I shall enter with a guard and depart when it is over, leaving you in peace. You and Hungary are invited to attend.’ He paused and looked around the room. ‘In fact you will all come. You can ride with me to Constantinople and get to know your new ruler.’ He went over to Zoe and offered her his arm. She rose. ‘And after the marriage we will return to Samarcand.’

*

A little later, after the signori had retired, Manuel remained with Plethon and Anna. Matthew, Nikolas and Arcadius were with them, freed now from Tamerlane’s retinue. Their reunion with Anna had been tempered by the news of the wedding in Constantinople.

‘He was supposed to stop at Ankara, Plethon,’ Manuel was saying. ‘We cannot let him enter Constantinople. What has gone wrong?’

Matthew spoke. ‘It is the Mamonas girl, majesty. She has bewitched him. He does what she tells him to.’

‘Including destroying her own empire?’ Manuel’s voice was rising.

Plethon shook his head. ‘She is ruthless, highness. And she wants more than Chios.’

Anna glanced at the philosopher. ‘Perhaps she wants the treasure and Constantinople is her price.’

Plethon said nothing. Manuel had begun to pace. ‘So what do we do? Can we defend ourselves? What of Sigismund? Is his crusade credible?’

Anna said: ‘It has Medici money and the blessing of two Popes. But it will take too long to come.’

Manuel grunted. ‘What about Suleyman? He still has half of Bayezid’s army in Rumelia. He could join with a Hungarian army.’

Plethon had already registered his dismay that Manuel had thought to ferry Suleyman’s fleeing army across to Europe. That had not been part of his plan. Manuel had wanted another ally should Tamerlane threaten Constantinople but it was hardly likely that Suleyman would find common ground with Sigismund.

Manuel had stopped pacing and was looking out at the evening sky, an eruption of pinks and mauves over the hills to the west. There was a light breeze and his long silver hair moved with it. ‘Could we poison him?’ he asked. ‘That’s what stopped them last time: the death of the Khan.’

Matthew spoke again. ‘Impossible, highness. Zoe is with him at all times.’

There was silence in the room and the wind played cool fingers over its taut strings. Plethon came and stood behind his emperor. ‘There is another way, lord,’ he said quietly. ‘The Varangians have told me that his grandson, Mohammed Sultan, has influence over him. He was wounded in the battle and rests at Ankara. We could send for him.’

‘But why would he come?’

‘Because the Varangian Luke Magoris is with him there. They have become friends. He could bring him.’

Manuel considered this. ‘But who would go to them?’

Matthew said: ‘We would, majesty. The three of us.’

‘You?’ This was Anna. ‘Three fair-haired giants riding through a sea of Mongols? You’d not get past Smyrna. I should go.’

Matthew snorted. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

Anna turned on him. ‘More dangerous than here? How safe will I be on Chios once Zoe knows that I’m here?’

She was right. Zoe’s implacable hatred of Anna would seal her death sentence once she’d learnt of her presence.

Nikolas said. ‘She could take the paizi. We still have it from the ride to Samarcand. If she was properly disguised, no one would dare stop her. And she’d get new horses at every yam.’

Matthew shot him a glance. But it made sense. Anna had to escape Chios, so she might as well escape to Ankara. She came forward to stand with Plethon, placing her hand on his arm. ‘I’m going,’ she said quietly.

To her surprise Plethon nodded. Then he took her to one side, out of earshot of the others. ‘Yes, you should go.’ His voice had dropped to a whisper. ‘The ring you gave to Luke: I need it back. If Zoe wants to bargain for the treasure then the ring is an important part of it, you know that.’ He looked over her head to make sure they weren’t being overheard. ‘Perhaps I was wrong, Anna. Perhaps this is the way the treasure is to be used to save the Empire.’