the empire, and to her personally, a whole new balance of relationships. Worst of all, Helena would exercise her long-hoped-for revenge.
In the end, survival was all. Byzantium must not be raped again. Whatever was paid to prevent that, it was not too much.
Seventy-seven
THE MAN WHO BROUGHT THE MESSAGE FROM THE POPE WAS obviously tired and profoundly unhappy. Courtesy required that Palombara offer him refreshment, but as soon as the servant had gone to prepare it, he pleaded to know the news.
"God knows we tried to create a union, but we have failed," the man said miserably. "The king of the Two Sicilies is gathering more ships and more allies with every passing week, and we can no longer pretend that the Orthodox Church is one with us in spirit and intent. It is only too obvious that their acceptance of our hand of friendship is a farce, a convenience to protect their physical safety, no more."
Palombara's mind was heavy with the terrible inevitability of it. Yet he had hoped that somehow the passion for survival would overcome.
"If you wish to return to Rome, my lord, the Holy Father gives you leave to do so." The messenger's voice dropped. "The Holy Father has recognized that he no longer has any control over the actions of the king. There will be another crusade, perhaps as soon as 1281, and it will be an army such as we have not seen before." He met Palombara's eyes. "But if you wish to remain in Constantinople, at least for the time being, there may be some Christian work to do here." He made the sign of the cross, naturally in the Roman way.
After the man had gone, Palombara remained alone in the great room, watching the afternoon sun sink over the ferries and water taxies and the distant business of the harbor. Rome saw Constantinople's tolerance of ideas as a moral laxity, its patience with even the most ridiculous or abstruse idea, rather than suppression of it, to be a weakness. They did not see that blind obedience eventually ended in the suffocation of thought.
Palombara did not want to return to Rome and work at some timeserving job shuffling papers, delivering messages, playing at the politics of office. He faced the window, and the light came in on his face. He closed his eyes and felt its warmth on his eyelids.
The darkness was closing in, but he was not yet ready to give up. If Charles of Anjou landed here, Palombara might save something from the wreckage. Definitely he could not simply walk away.
He found the words quite clear in his mind. "Please, dear Lord, do not let all this be destroyed. Please do not let us do that to them-or to ourselves."
He stood silent for a moment.
"Amen," he added.
Seventy-eight
GIULIANO DANDOLO RETURNED TO VENICE WITH A SHIP filled with gold from all over Europe. In England, Spain, France, and the Holy Roman Empire, men were preparing for a great crusade. Some of the ships were built already. The shipyards worked night and day. Charles of Anjou had paid his share of the contract; he would receive what he had ordered.
Nevertheless, Giuliano was not happy as he stood on the balcony and stared at the splendor of the dying sun over the Adriatic.
The doge had told him that Venice had abrogated the treaty it had made with Byzantium. It had lasted just two years. Giuliano had had nothing to do with it, neither its creation nor its destruction, yet he felt racked with shame for the betrayal of it.
He stared at the light on the water, watching it change. The translucency of it, the moving shadows, were so subtle that one nameless tone vanished into another. It was like the Bosphorus.
What would happen to Constantinople when the crusaders landed?
The whole issue of fighting over faith was absurd. How far from the teachings of Christ were all these quarrels as to who had power or rights over what. He remembered the conversations he had had with Anastasius at sea and in that desolate site that might, or might not, have been Golgotha.
The thought of Anastasius cut to the heart of his pain. How would the crusaders treat him? How could he protect himself? The thought of it was too terrible to allow into Giuliano's mind. It was the whole city that mattered, and all the lands around it, but in the end, as perhaps with everyone, it all came down to those you knew, the faces, the