August 1059 to November 1059
We were on the road to the family farm in Thrace a couple of days later. I felt conflicted, apprehensive at leaving in Isaac’s absence but looking forward to the time away. This journey included a squad of ten Varangians for protection for Caesar John and his family, along with two nursemaids to help with the children. Our eldest, Manuel, hero-worshipped the tall blond soldiers from the north. He was fourteen, growing fast, and eager to become a soldier like his father and uncle. He and his cousin, sixteen-year-old George Dokeianos, had become generals to the troops of younger children swarming in the palace nursery. Nine-year-old Isaac practiced at being second-in-command, keeping his youthful cohort in order.
There had never been such a crowd at the farm, with the Varangians camped in tents and a few bedding in the barn. They took turns fishing with the older boys, keeping watch over the farm, and caring for the horses. George, Manuel and Isaac raced their horses while the girls and the littlest boys cheered them on. On the whole, it was easy duty for fighting men more accustomed to wielding battle-axes than fishing poles.
I was glad to see John’s mood lightening while away from the city, the palace, and the burdens of ruling. We both enjoyed the holiday, with more time together since most of the children were older and we employed servants this time to help with the chores. We often relaxed in the evening with a jug of wine after the children were in bed, holding hands under the stars as we had in our earlier years there.
Catherine sent messengers daily with news from court and of Isaac’s campaign. We had been gone almost three weeks when I mentioned to John that we should start planning our return.
“No need to start yet,” he said, sounding unconcerned. “I sent Catherine word that we’d be here at least two more weeks.”
I blinked in shock. “John, you promised her we’d be back in three weeks. I think we really should return now.”
“Well, I don’t, and I’m the Caesar. There’s nothing going on that she can’t take care of. I wrote her that we are staying two more weeks and that’s the end of that.” His willful attitude did not invite contradiction. It didn’t seem to matter to him that he had ignored Catherine’s command to be back in three weeks. I had deep misgivings about his decision, but no choice other than to accept it.
John may have thought that extending the holiday would have extended the fun we had been having, but the weather turned unseasonably cold, with gray clouds from one end of the sky to the other. Without cold-weather clothes, Alexios and baby Adrian started having runny noses and fevers by the second week in September, the week John had told Catherine we would leave for home. I knew Alexios was feeling bad when he was content to snuggle in my lap like a lazy cat.
“I don’t think I should travel with Alexios and Adrian now,” I told John. “I don’t want them out in this weather as ill as they are.”
“Well, we can put off leaving another week. Catherine will understand,” came John’s casual response.
“No, John, you need to get back. Catherine’s expecting you. Take the older children, one of the nursemaids, and half of the Varangians. We’ll follow in a few days, once the weather clears up and the boys are better.” I had to insist. I felt like Sisyphus always rolling his boulder uphill, pushing John to meet his responsibilities as Caesar.
Eventually, he agreed to my suggestion, but he had a sulky look on his face as he rode away.
That September was the coldest in memory. For two long weeks, the boys sweated with their fevers and runny noses. The miserable weather never let up, with a chilly rain before turning into an unexpected wintry cold late in the month. One morning we even woke to a snowy dusting, although it soon melted as the day warmed.
Alexios and Adrian finally recovered to the point where they could travel, but heavy sheets of cold rain poured down, leaving the country roads muddy and impassable. I was about to tear my hair out in frustration while we waited another week, cooped up with two healthy boys wanting to get out and play. The wagon we would use could not get through the muddy roads, but eventually the rain ended. Once the roads dried out enough, we could be on our way.
One afternoon, I wrapped the warmest shawl I had around my shoulders and ventured out to survey the road with a couple of the soldiers who would escort us back to the city. I glanced first to the western mountains and froze at the sight of three men on horseback cantering to the house. The soldiers tensed, drawing their battle-axes against intruders. I watched as the men approached, but my tension soon ebbed. I recognized his silhouette even from a great distance.
“You can sheath your weapons,” I told the two Varangians. “It’s your emperor.”
A thousand thoughts flew through my mind, wondering how he got here, what did it portend? I put on a welcoming face for these sudden guests.
“Greetings, my lord, we were not expecting visitors,” I said, “but of course we are always happy to see you.”
Isaac and his men reigned in their horses. Isaac’s face looked haggard, cheeks sunken and eyes dull.
One of Isaac’s men addressed me. “Caesarissa, the army is camped a few miles away, but the emperor recalled that you and Caesar John had a farm here.” The man glanced uncertainly at Isaac. “He thought this might be a more congenial spot to spend the night.”
“Of course, you’re all welcome. I am sorry I can’t feed the army, but we can accommodate the three of you. My lord, please come inside. The Varangians can show your men where to stable the horses.”
Isaac gave me a thin smile of gratitude and dismounted. He bent down to kiss my cheek in greeting. He looked as burdened as Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Thank you, Anna. Would you have some wine? The journey left me parched.”
“Of course, Isaac. Come inside.”
Childish laughs came from the side of the house. Alexios had been tumbling about with his little brother, the nursemaid keeping an eye on them. The girl tried to settle the boys down once she realized it was the emperor who approached, but Adrian was not much more than a baby and kept reaching to pull Alexios’s hair. Isaac patted the children’s heads with a distracted air before we went inside.
I set cups on the table and brought a flagon of wine out with a plate of bread and cheese.
“I didn’t expect you’d still be here. Catherine wrote that you and John were going for a few weeks. But you don’t usually stay so late into the fall.” Isaac spoke with an air of disinterest, as though going through the motions of polite conversation.
“John returned several weeks ago, but the two boys were ill, and I thought it would be better to wait for them to recover. Then came the cold and the rain, and we’ve been stuck here ever since.”
Isaac leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, the cup between his hands, head bent so I could not see his face, not meeting my eye.
“Yes, the cold, and it did rain, didn’t it?” Isaac stood suddenly, poured himself more wine, and walked to the window, where he could look out at the children, standing there for several minutes. The silence echoed in the room while the boys caroused outside.
I grew anxious at his words, his demeanor. My palms suddenly felt damp from the fear growing up my spine.
“Isaac, what happened? Did the Pechenegs . . .” I couldn’t finish my sentence.
“We defeated the Pechenegs. They won’t be causing trouble for a good long time.” He sighed deeply. “No, it was the rain that defeated us, and the snow, and the cold.”
“What? The rain?”
He spoke slowly. “It was on the way home. Rain so bad it poured down so we couldn’t see more than a foot or two in front of us. For three days. Then the cold came, and by then the men had no dry firewood to cook, keep warm. It’s still September; they didn’t expect to need their heavier clothes. There was no place to shelter the horses.”
He stopped, a soft groan of anguish in his throat.
“They died. Men and horses, some went to sleep and never woke up. Some became sick and died. Not all, but many. Then we had to ford a river, and the storms returned. I had crossed, but most of the army was still . . .” He paused and gave me a haunted look. “They were on the other side. When they tried to cross it, the water surged up, swallowing maybe two hundred men and horses. But the weather was not done with us yet.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, gripping the arms of my chair.
Isaac raised his cup to his chapped lips, swallowing what was in it. He put the cup down on a table and began to pace.
“The next day, trying to learn how many men we had lost, how many we still had, we stopped to get a count of who was left. I was standing under an oak when black storm clouds rolled through fast from the east. A bolt of lightning shot through the air and split the oak, burning it to its core. I was standing near it, not too close, but five other men were closer. The lightning hit them. I swear I was close enough to feel the heat and energy shoot out of the sky. The bodies of the ones who died looked frightening, tongues singed, bodies too hot to touch, boots blown off their feet. Like they’d been in hell.”
I reached a hand out to him. “Dear Lord, that must have been horrible. I am so grateful it didn’t strike you.”
He shook his head, tears in his eyes. “I . . . I feel as though it was my fault. That I was being punished.”
“Isaac, you can’t blame yourself for the weather.”
“No? Perhaps not, but maybe God is punishing me. Punishing me for getting rid of Keroularios, for taking the gold from the monasteries, for everything. Who else but I could bring down this terrible wrath from God?”
“You mustn’t think that, Isaac. Nothing you did was for you, so you could live a life in easy luxury. It was for the protection of the empire. How else could you defeat invaders? Soldiers need to be paid. The rain, the snow, the cold weather, everyone felt it. It didn’t just happen to you. Even the lightning—it was God’s blessing that you were not struck by it. ”
“Yes, but I’m the emperor, the one responsible. It was my soldiers that died.”
“Isaac, you have no reason to blame yourself. Sit down now and rest while I prepare dinner. You’ve had a rough few weeks, but you’ve still defeated the Pechenegs. No one can take that victory from you. You’ve accomplished so much while you’ve been emperor. You have your men’s loyalty because you care about them.”
He gave me a look full of sadness. “I hardly feel I deserve it.”
Isaac spoke little at dinner until I mentioned how long I had been at the farm.
“I was surprised when Catherine’s dispatches told me you and John came here. Catherine sounded unhappy about it,” he said, eyeing me over the rim of his cup. “You know I expected John would stay in the city. Did he forget that?”
I flushed warm with embarrassment at his statement.
“John just really missed our visits. Can I get you anything else to eat?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
Isaac frowned and shook his head. He rubbed his temples as though his head ached.
I gestured to the servants to clear the table, forestalling any more conversation about my husband.
I gave Isaac my room that night while I moved in with the children and their nursemaid. But the sound of him pacing lasted long into the dark hours.
I rose early in the morning to secure supplies for him, as well as to begin preparations for our own departure. Isaac still looked morose as I bid him farewell but he seemed to have recovered some of his usual energy.
“We won’t be far behind you. I expect we’ll be back at the palace a day or two after you get there.”
He raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing beyond his thanks and goodbye.
I spent that day packing up everything we would bring back to the city. Clothes, toys, cheeses and olives, baskets of apples and walnuts. We left early the next morning in the wagon, escorted by the Varangians John had left behind.
Even though the mud in the roads had dried, they were a pitted, bumpy mess, making the trip longer than normal, increasing my eagerness to return. The spicy aromas from the city’s many kitchens blew toward us as we neared the city on the Via Egnatia highway—cinnamon, pepper, cardamom, garum, all the scents of home. Then the Porta Aurea came into view, the golden gate into Constantinople, the Queen of Cities, with its bright golden statues of elephants and angels above the gate, shining in the sun. It was such a relief to return after almost two months.
“Lady Anna, Lady Anna,” a familiar voice called. It was Thomas, hurrying toward us.
“Thomas, I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said.
“Yes, lady. Your husband sent me to watch for you, to let you know that you should return to your house, not to go to the palace. He will be waiting for you there.” Thomas had an anxious look about him but said nothing other than that. He was expected back at the palace.
The road from the Porta Aurea, the Mese, would have been an easy journey straight to the Great Palace. But the route home to Blachernae had many twists and turns through narrow streets and neighborhoods I had seen little of in the past two years. The houses and shops on the way looked much the same, if shabbier to eyes grown accustomed to imperial luxury.
Our gatekeeper, an old soldier named Demetrios, swung open the gate to our house on our arrival.
“Welcome, Caesarissa Anna. Caesar John is in the garden with the other children,” he said with downcast eyes.
“Thank you, Demetrios,” I said, noticing that he was not his usual gregarious self.
I descended from our wagon carefully, swinging the boys down. It would be strange to both of them. Alexios had been a baby when Isaac became emperor, and Adrian had been born in the palace. My stomach felt tight, wondering why we were here and not there.
I took the boys’ hands and walked into the house, its smells both familiar and musty after our long vacancy. Pushing aside the curtains to peer out to the garden, I saw John with little Donya and Theodora. Marina, Isaac, and Manuel were nearby arguing over a game.
John looked up and saw us, a nervous smile on his face.
“Marina,” he called, “come take Alexios and Adrian. I need to speak with your mother.”
Inside with him, I finally spoke.
“John, what’s wrong? Why are you here and not at the palace?”
He looked at me as if trying to come up with words.
“John, what’s happened?”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. Finally, he swallowed hard and started to speak.
“You know you always said you would prefer to live here, not at the palace.” His eyes darted around the room, evasive.
“What does that have to do with this situation?” I asked, irritation building. “We have responsibilities in the palace.”
“Not any more.” John’s face turned red, then he blurted, “Isaac said I should just go home.”
“Just go home?” I had to sit down.
“He was very angry that we left. You shouldn’t have told him.”
I looked at him as if he had lost his mind.
“Shouldn’t have told him what? That we were there for more than a month? Catherine already told him we’d gone, and he could easily guess how long we stayed since I was still there.”
His mouth shrank into a circle, his chin hard as a rock.
“Did you want me to lie to him? Do you think he wouldn’t have learned the truth?” I said, my voice rising in anger. John was trying to blame me, when it was entirely his responsibility. “I did try to keep him from learning how much you delayed our return.”
He had the decency to look away.
“Isaac said I wasn’t needed at the palace anymore. He said to just take the children and return here.”
Isaac must have been livid, or he would never have sent his brother away. As close as they had been John’s whole life, this was a devastating break. John was close to breaking down in tears. I had to back up and push my own exasperation at my husband’s actions aside. I pulled John close to me.
“Isaac will get over this. You know he will. He was under a lot of stress after losing so many men in the storms. He needs a little time, and you’ll be back on good terms with him.” I tried to comfort my husband while the children played outside, shouting in their games. Isaac loved his brother, but John had disappointed him far too much this time. Coming right after the terrible losses in Bulgaria, Isaac was taking it out on his brother. John would have to work to regain Isaac’s good opinion.
John ventured to the Great Palace almost every day for the next few weeks, trying to repair the break between them. It wasn’t easy, but Isaac was courteous, and he did seem to soften, or so John said. One evening, he returned with an escort and a chest filled with gold coins.
“Isaac sends this, with his thanks. He didn’t want you to think he forgot what he owed you now that the treasury is on a stronger footing,” John said,
The emperor had been generous, the box holding a bit more than I had provided two years earlier. I worried it may have meant he was trying to loosen the ties he had with John and me, or it could mean he only now had the means to make the payment.
In the palace, I had longed to be where I was now, at home with our seven children. Now, I found I missed the many other young faces I had spent two years with in the nursery. My own children missed their old playmates.
Besides that, I had found managing the staff and day-to-day operations of the Great Palace unexpectedly fulfilling. The old buildings held priceless porphyry, icons, and mosaics and witnessed many generations of emperors and empresses. It had been an honor to return some of it to good condition. Some buildings, in truth, needed to be torn down. But for much of it, I’d reached a point over the summer where its operations ran as smoothly as a water mill rotating endlessly on its axle. Thomas’s help had been invaluable, and I missed his friendly face. In mid-November, I decided I needed to visit the palace.
After an absence of over three months, I was surprised at how happy I felt to be back inside the palace walls. The nursery hummed with the chaotic activity of children playing or nibbling on treats the eunuchs had brought. Eudokia and my niece Marika greeted me excitedly with embraces and many questions. They were looking after the children, who all greeted me with smiles.
The nursery felt warm from unseasonable winds blowing from the south and held the familiar smells, good and bad, of the children in it.
“Caesarissa Anna, I’ve missed you,” said dark-eyed Marie of Bulgaria. She was a sweet, earnest eight-year-old now.
“I’ve missed you too, Marie, so I thought I should come for a visit. Tell me, how have you been? And how have your lessons been?”
She seriously explained what she’d learned from her tutors, pushing back a strand of dark hair slipping across her face.
“Aunt Catherine is so busy I hardly ever see her,” Marie of Bulgaria whispered in her soft voice. I put my arms around this little orphan who needed more hugs than she would ever get from Empress Catherine.
Maria of Alania and her cousin Irene also greeted me. Maria’s beauty, even at that age, was exceptional. Her flawless skin, red-gold hair, and rosebud mouth were complemented by a courteous manner and friendly disposition. Irene was a sturdier, more resilient, version of Maria.
Eudokia’s oldest, her son, Michael, approached and asked after my son Isaac, who had always been his favorite playmate. He was such a shy child; he must have really missed my son to seek me out. I felt bad disappointing him with the news that Isaac was not with me.
Eudokia and Marika pulled me aside to talk of the latest events. Inevitably, John’s abrupt departure from court was the main topic.
“Papa was upset about Uncle John’s absence from the city, but he was even angrier after he spoke to Mama. I’m not sure what she told him, but I know she thought Uncle was little help. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Papa so mad.”
I swallowed hard at that, blaming myself for not resisting John’s suggestion for the trip.
“Marika, I don’t think there was anything that serious that came up while they were gone. Your mother may just have felt overwhelmed with both John and the emperor gone,” said Eudokia. She was diplomatic in her efforts to smooth over the affair. Knowing Catherine, though, her irritation could have magnified every perceived lapse. It meant John would have to reconcile with both Isaac and Catherine. I wasn’t sure my husband could manage that.
I bid farewell to Eudokia and my niece and went in search of Thomas, finding him back in the workroom where I’d first met him.
Thomas’s face held a line of perspiration along his upper lip, and his damp tunic gave evidence of heavy work. He looked up as my shadow from the doorway darkened the workroom.
“Caesarissa Anna,” he exclaimed with a smile, “what a surprise to see you. I had no idea you were coming here today.”
“I gave no warning. I wanted it to be a quiet visit, nothing formal.”
“Well, I’m happy to see you again. I’ve missed our talks, and,” he said, looking more somber, “there have been changes since you left in August.”
“I’m glad to see you as well, Thomas. What sort of changes? I see you’re back here now.” I sat down on the stool near his desk, breathing in the natural scents that clung to the tools stored in it. They reminded me of my grandmother’s gardens, pungent with the earth and herbs, roses and fruits.
“The empress had some, uh, different ideas. She thought it was better for me to focus again on the outdoor areas, and she brought back some of those you had pensioned off.”
I blinked at that. Catherine had never intimated that she was unhappy with my decisions. In fact, she never evidenced any interest in the palace’s operations beyond what I reported to her. Someone must have influenced her. Thomas’s face betrayed his disappointment in the demotion.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Thomas. I’m sure she’ll realize soon enough how valuable you are.”
“Perhaps, but since you left, she, and now the emperor after his return, spend a lot of time with Michael Psellus. That one prefers the palace the way it used to be run. Both Psellus and Constantine Ducas prefer that.”
“Ducas?” This was another unfortunate turn of events because of that holiday John had insisted on.
Thomas frowned. “You didn’t know? The emperor has been spending most of his days with Psellus and Ducas.”
I shook my head, disgusted. That would have to change. Thank heaven that John seemed to be getting back in Isaac’s favor.
“Your roses are blooming so late?” I asked, looking at a chipped ceramic bowl brimming with stunning crimson and ivory roses on the desk.
He smiled, his fingers brushing the soft petals. “I thought they’d be done after the cold weather we had in September. Then the last few days, with hot winds blowing up from Africa, these blossomed as though it was summer again.”
I took my leave of Thomas then, walking the well-worn marble paths leading to the Daphne Palace to meet John and pay my respects to Catherine and Isaac. I wanted to do whatever I could to smooth over relations between the brothers.
It was a surprise when I arrived at Isaac’s office in the palace to hear the sounds of laughter. There were, to be sure, others in the room when I arrived, several supporters of Isaac’s, including Psellus and Ducas. But the lighthearted atmosphere lacked the sullen tension that John said had marked his visits a few weeks earlier. Isaac gave me a brief but warm welcome, and Catherine’s greeting gave no evidence of a lingering resentment.
John told me on our return home that day that Isaac had invited him to join his hunting party the following day.
“I think you were right,” he said, “Isaac just needed some time to get over his irritation.”
That was the best news. I slipped my hand into John’s and smiled up at him, the simmering irritation I’d been feeling for weeks now cooling and forgotten.
John crept from our bed before first light, eager to join Isaac and the other men in the hunt. I lay half-asleep, half-awake while the sun slowly edged above the horizon, blissful in my enjoyment of the quiet before the house roused. I fell back over the edge into sleep, dreaming of a chess game I had played with Uncle Costas, and woke to a cock’s crow. Uncle Costas, an esteemed general and my grandfather’s oldest brother, had died fourteen years earlier, and I rarely thought of him now, other than to pray for his soul in church. Fully awake, I struggled to think what chess game it was that the dream recalled. We had played so often the games blurred together.
It made no sense to just lie there, so I got up and dressed for the day. Glancing in my clothes chest, I saw the corner of the wine-colored cloak Uncle Costas had handed me when he left for the monastery, buried at the bottom under my dresses. I pulled it out then, the scent of it bringing back his memory. The old wool felt stiff between my fingers, and suddenly I recalled the chess game in the dream. It was somehow about his daughter, Xene, who had been married to Constantine Ducas. In the dream it seemed he had been trying to explain something to me about the game, but like most dreams, his words evaporated in the light of day.
Isaac was the king on the chessboard, John his knight. I was just a pawn, moving to defend the king. But I also moved in opposition to another would-be king. Constantine Ducas. I had promised my cousin Xene on her grave that I would avenge her death at his hands. That was the true reason why I had given Isaac the gold I had inherited from my grandparents to pay his soldiers since, without it, Ducas might have taken the lead in the rebellion. Now Ducas was still just a senator and still married to Eudokia, instead of Isaac’s daughter, despite his efforts at seduction. It was so gratifying to know I had thwarted his every maneuver to gain the throne. Yes, Xene, I have avenged you.
It felt good to start the day remembering that, even though I was just a woman, I had stopped Constantine Ducas.
The day passed as most days did, with chores and hungry children, lessons and scraped knees. My oldest, Manuel, and I sat down at the chess board in the cloudy afternoon, storm clouds and rain rolling through. At fourteen, he played a fine game, as good as my grandfather’s had been, although not as good as Uncle Costas had. Scents from the kitchen foretold of the fish stew we would soon enjoy at dinner.
“When will Papa be home?” he asked, moving a knight to counter my bishop. He was a handsome boy, just showing the signs of his first beard coming in, a rich brown with red lights glinting in it.
“I’m not sure. It might not be until late, possibly not until tomorrow. He might stay the night at the palace if they return late.”
My son gave me a searching glance before speaking again.
“So is he getting along better with Uncle Isaac?”
We had not spoken to the children of why we returned home from the palace after spending two years there. But Manuel was old enough to overhear conversations and gossip. From the worried look on his face, he was old enough to have concerns about what he heard.
I gave him an encouraging smile. “Manuel, they’re brothers. Brothers fight, and brothers make up. But in the end, brothers are loyal to each other and stand together. You need to remember that when you’re grown and your own brother Isaac fights with you.”
He laughed. “It won’t be Isaac I’ll be fighting with, he’s too easygoing. It’ll be Alexios.”
I chuckled at that. Alexios, at three, spent most of his day finding ways to torment his brothers and sisters, but especially Manuel.
“You have to be loyal to all your brothers—and sisters too. Family is always the most important,” I said.
It was then that I heard John arriving in the courtyard, calling for the stable boy to take his horse.
He rushed into the house, searching me out.
“Isaac’s taken ill. We’re needed at the palace.” His face was dirt-streaked, beard soaked and eyes red-rimmed.
“Taken ill? What happened?”
“He chased a boar to the shore of the Bosphorus. There’d been rain, but suddenly lightning started, and before we knew what was happening, it struck next to Isaac, and he fell from his horse. The horse must have been hit worse—it’s dead. Isaac started foaming at the mouth, didn’t seem to recognize anyone. We found a boat and brought him back to the palace. He’s with the physicians now.”
I called the servants together while John hastily assembled some clothes.
“The Caesar and I must leave for the palace. I’m not sure when we’ll return, but I’m leaving Manuel in charge in our absence. You are to treat any instructions he gives you as though they came from me. Does everyone understand? And I ask also for your urgent prayers for the emperor’s recovery.”
They nodded agreement; none of them were likely to cause Manuel problems, but I wanted to be clear. I put a hand on Manuel’s shoulder. He stood taller, and his face held a serious demeanor.
“I don’t expect we’ll be gone long, but you know to contact Maria Kourtikios if anyone takes ill, and send word to us at the palace if that happens. Do you have any questions?”
“No, Mama.”
The boy was already as tall as I was, growing towards manhood, proud to have this responsibility. I kissed his cheek in farewell.
It was dusk by the time we arrived at the palace, but it was lit up as though for a great festivity. Eunuchs were scurrying in with wine and food for the dynatoi pressing in to learn any news. John and I, Caesar and Caesarissa, received preferential treatment, escorted into Isaac’s rooms by two well-armed Varangians. Catherine and Marika looked anxious as they conferred with one of the physicians, who wore the uniform of the venerable Hospital of Sampson, located closest to the palace.
Psellus came over to greet us, obsequious as ever.
“Caesar John, Caesarissa Anna, good that you’re here. The emperor is resting now. The physician gave him a draught to help him sleep.”
“Has there been any improvement?” John asked. He held my hand tight in a sweaty grip.
Psellus looked down, the picture of concern. “He’s bruised from the fall from his horse, and the lightning left burn marks on one side. He seems to be aware of people, but he’s not able to hear right now.”
John pushed back his hair nervously.
“The empress asked me to clear the room, although I’m sure she wants you both to remain. Excuse me while I see everyone else out.”
Psellus moved to escort the other visitors to the exit while John and I went to speak with Catherine.
“We’ll have someone stay with the emperor all night,” said the physician, “although he should sleep well with the medicine I gave him. With God’s help, he will recover by morning. It wasn’t a direct hit and some people recover quickly.”
Catherine stood listening, twisting a ring on her finger over and over.
“And if he doesn’t? What do we do then?” she said, her voice sharp as a knife.
“My lady, we will have to look him over again in the morning to know. As I said, many do recover, but it is in God’s hands now.” The physician bowed to her and excused himself.
“Catherine, do you want Anna and me to stay with Isaac? We can take turns, and you can get some rest and be ready if he needs you in the morning,” said John.
“And I’ll help too,” said Marika. “Someone will be at his side all night.”
Catherine’s foot tapped on the floor nervously before she nodded agreement. I glanced around the almost empty room as the three of them conferred on our schedule for attending to Isaac. A couple of servants were clearing the remains of the meal. Michael Psellus had not quite emptied the room; he stood talking in grave tones with Constantine Ducas and his younger brother, John, near the door. I couldn’t help but wish that Ducas would just disappear or go far away.
Isaac remained stunned, confused, but his hearing did start to return slowly. The physicians had him drink concoctions, some of which seemed to help. We all took turns staying with him, helping the physicians care for him, coaxing him to take even just a little broth, eat a corner of bread. Catherine sat often at his side, more gentle than I had seen her before, wiping his brow with a cool cloth when the confusion came over him. She spent hours praying for his recovery in the Chapel of the Theotokos when not at Isaac’s side.
The late November days grew ever shorter, the north winds blowing the warmth back to Africa. One evening as I sat with Isaac, he was tossing, trying to get comfortable. His limp body looked shriveled from its former sturdy bulk, weak as a newborn.
“Isaac, here, try and take a little broth,” I said, my voice louder than normal so he could hear.
He sipped a small amount before leaning back against the cushions.
“Thank you, Anna, but no more. It’s too much effort to drink.”
“I’ll give it to you in spoonfuls, then. You just open your mouth.”
He gave a tired smile and let me dribble some of it in before saying, “Enough for now.”
I set the bowl aside and wrung out a cool cloth to wipe his tired face. His eyes closed and for a few minutes I thought he had fallen asleep before they opened and he peered at my face.
“Anna, tell me honestly,” he began in a hoarse whisper, “did I do something to deserve this?”
His question startled me. “No, Isaac, you did nothing. What makes you think that?”
“Was it wrong of me to rebel against Michael Bringas?” he asked, speaking of the old man he had overthrown who had ruled so badly as emperor for a year. “And what about Keroularios? Is God punishing me now?”
“Oh, Isaac, you know Michael Bringas was a fool who should never have sat on the throne. And Keroularios may have been patriarch, but he was no saint.” His hand lay on the side of the bed. I reached over and squeezed it.
His eyes were haunted. He swallowed. “I’m not sure. All the men I lost in the Danube, the men killed when lightning struck the tree I stood under, but I wasn’t. Then to feel the power of the lightning strike me here near the palace, like the hand of God warning me of what punishment my sins will warrant if I don’t repent. It felt like my final sign.”
Many would agree with Isaac about such ominous signs, and I struggled to find words of encouragement. “Not punished, Isaac, just tested.”
A half smile passed over his tired face, “I’m not sure I’m passing the test.”
He drifted into a restless sleep then.
I left Isaac’s bedside in the early morning hours when John came to relieve me. Isaac roused at John’s arrival and smiled at his younger brother. After a few hours sleep myself, I returned to Isaac’s rooms at midday, waiting in the antechamber, and learned that the hegoumenos of the monastery of St. John Stoudion was with him. The monks there had raised Isaac and John after their parents had died. Priests and monks had visited Isaac almost daily since he became ill, but this was the first time Stoudion’s hegoumenos had been there.
There appeared to be affairs of state that required discussion, with Psellus, Constantine Ducas, Kekaumenos, John, and several other councilors being escorted into his chamber. Eudokia arrived, explaining her husband had sent for her. The meeting in Isaac’s chamber went on into the late afternoon when Psellus left and returned with Catherine and her daughter. They both looked worn out after their days of care and worry. Until now, Catherine had always carried herself with such a regal air.
The door opened to Isaac’s chamber, and his visitors all filed out except for the hegoumenos. I had been listening to Eudokia’s whispered questions about the emperor’s health when I noticed John, who usually would stand close by me, instead moved to the other side of the antechamber, talking with a few of the men. I tried to catch his eye but he appeared distracted and did not even glance at me. Michael Psellus cleared his throat to speak.
“My lords and ladies, the emperor has asked me to make an announcement. His illness is such he believes he has few remaining days on this earth. He has decided that to atone for his sins and make his soul ready for passage into the eternal tomb, he will now abdicate the throne and enter the monastery of St. John Stoudion as a simple monk for his remaining days.”
“No, Isaac, you can’t do this,” Catherine cried out to the closed door that stood between them. “What’s to become of me?” she moaned as she sagged to the floor
Marika clutched her mother’s arm, tears streaming down. I moved to embrace them when the thought hit me that this would mean that John, as Isaac’s Caesar, would become emperor, and I his empress.
But Psellus had not finished.
“The emperor is thus abdicating today and has chosen Senator Constantine Ducas as his successor.”
I heard the words, but their meaning made no sense to me. How could Ducas be named Isaac’s successor? What of John? I looked at my husband, whose face spoke of his guilt, darting glances at me before shifting his gaze to the mosaic floor with the image of a snake coiled around the throat of a stag. It felt like a snake had coiled around me as I had the sick realization that the words I had heard were true. John knew the kind of man Ducas was better than anyone aside from me. John knew what he had done to Xene and John had still let this happen. John, my husband, had betrayed me. I could hardly breathe.